


Your Words Mean Nothing To Me

by thMaddHatter



Series: The Magic is in the Words [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Domestic Violence, F/M, Flashbacks, I apologize in advance, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Stiles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles, Polish Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Speaks Polish, Stiles-centric, Witch Stiles Stilinski, assumptions of infidelity, background implied sterek, if the title didn't give that away for you, learning how to people, like this whole story is based around lying, lots of fucking lying, lying, manipulative boyfriends, no actual infidelity, one sided Malia x Lydia, realistic malia, shitty Google translations, trigger warning, unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:20:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 31
Words: 97,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thMaddHatter/pseuds/thMaddHatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1525346/chapters/3226100">Words Just Come Out</a>. Absolutely must read to understand.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Stiles would have made an amazing werewolf. His intelligence, observational skills, ability to think outside of the box, and unwavering determination would have cultivated him into the ultimate predator. Instead, he was wasting it on spellcasting. “Hippy stuff” was what Pappous called it. Certainly there was power in witchcraft, there was just no place for it in the life of a predator. And Griffin was a predator.</em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>And it was too fucking early in the morning for any of that nonsense anyways. It was a Saturday, he should be sleeping right now. Fuck all of them. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yaaaay! Part 2! Gooooo!
> 
> Also, I started this off with one of my crappy sex scenes. I apologize in advance.

(Wednesday Night)

Stiles huffed out a shaky breath as Griffin fucked into him, deep and slow. Griffin had a hand wrapped around his neck, not enough to choke him, just a firm grip. The other hand was pressed flat against his sternum, holding him in place, back flush against Griffin's chest. He pulled out slowly, torturously so, then snapped back in, rocking the entire bed. Stiles writhed against him, moaning and whimpering as he teased at his prostate. It was enough to drive him wild, but not enough to send him over the edge.

"Say you're sorry," Griffin drawled into his ear, voice low and husky. Stiles could feel the bass in it vibrating down his vertebrae.

"For fuck's sake!" He panted. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm the sorriest sorry to ever sorry!”

"Sorry for what?" Griffin asked against the skin on his shoulder, making Stiles’ dick twitch. Stiles let out a shudder that cut into a moan as Griffin pounded into him again. He reached a hand down to stroke his own leaky cock, but Griffin swatted it out of the way.

"Shit!” he whined. “I'm sorry for everything! Sorry for failing my math test last week! Sorry for global warming! I'm sorry the dinosaurs are extinct. Fuck! I'm so sorry!" Griffin chuckled. His voice rumbled through Stiles’ bones and he mewled at the sensation, reaching for his cock again in vain. He couldn't take this much longer. They'd been at this for so long, he was going to implode if they kept it up.

"No, that's not what I want to hear." Griffin brought his hand down, teasing at Stiles' cock with his fingertips before bringing them back up and smiling at Stiles' whimpers.

"Fine!” he surrendered breathily. “I'm sorry I yelled at you! And called you names. And ignored you for two weeks."

"And?" Griffin picked up the pace of his thrusting and Stiles sighed gratefully at the impending climax.

"Fuck that,” he argued. “I'm not sorry for keying your car! I'll do that shit again! I should have slashed your damn tires-ah!" He punctuated his sentence with a quiet scream as Griffin bit down hard on his shoulder with blunt, human teeth. It hurt so _bad_ and it felt so fucking good. He just wanted to come right there! "Okay! Shit! I'm sorry for keying your car! It's such a nice car. It's shiny and beautiful and not a monster at all! And fuck! I just need you to make me come before my dick explodes!"

Griffin let his shoulder go and laid a kiss on the forming bruise. He snickered at him, pleased at his reaction before putting a hand on Stiles' back and pressing his chest into the mattress. He captured both of his wrists behind his back with one large hand and gripped the back of his neck. "You want me to fuck you like this?" He asked with a smirk.

"Oh God, please yes!" Stiles begged into the blankets, grinding his hips back against Griffin eagerly.

“You want it so much don’t you?” Griffin bucked his hips one good time, making Stiles gasp with the shock of it before he had the chance to answer. Knowing he did, he leant down to his ear and whispered darkly, "Good, because I'm going to fuck you so hard you can't speak afterward. Okay?"

Stiles was _so fucking ready_ for that. "You promise?" he panted. Accepting his challenge, Griffin pounded into him hard and fast, shaking the bed. He had Stiles moaning and calling out a string of incoherent words, mostly Griffin’s name sprinkled with expletives and a few praises to the Lord.

This was what Stiles liked. Don’t get him wrong. He liked slow and tender sex as well, intimate and sensuous. He even got his enjoyment out of the torturous, teasing sex like Griffin was punishing him with. Hell, who was he kidding? He liked all kinds of sex. Sex in general. But fast and hard and rough was by far his favorite. He loved being fucked to within an inch of his life, pushed beyond his breaking point. He craved the mix of pleasure and pain, the sensory overload, and the exhausted, shaking, spent, vulnerable feeling it left him with when it was all said and done.

Yes, that was definitely his favorite.

After all the teasing and the punishment, getting exactly what he wanted sent him over the edge quickly. It wasn't long before he was coming, vision whiting out and shouting into the mattress. Griffin wasn’t far behind him, leaning down to bite his other shoulder as he rode his climax out.

A few minutes later, when they were both collapsed on the bed, catching their breath, Griffin asked, “Did you learn your lesson?” Stiles nodded at him, too worn and still coming down from his orgasm high to speak just yet. “Good.” He pulled him closer for a kiss but froze, glancing toward the door then laughing. “Aunt Dee says you’re too loud. She would like to convey the message: ‘Shut the fuck up, Stiles.’”

XxxxxxxxxX (Thursday)

Stiles has been rather mean lately. He’s been insulting and rude, and just a plain old douche. Completely out of character. Okay not completely. Maybe just an exaggerated form of his usual asshole self. In his defense, it wasn’t entirely his fault. He’d been rather pissed off these past few weeks. How exactly was he supposed to behave with all this pent up rage building in his chest?

It was oozing out of him at all the worst times. Like when talking to his Dad, who was still home recovering from his bullet wound from 3 weeks ago. Or in the middle of class, any class, all of them actually. Or whenever he found himself alone with Griffin for longer than 15 minutes. Poor Griffin got the brunt of all his aggression. To be honest, Stiles was surprised he hadn’t broken up with him yet. He had been a real jack ass to him. He must either really love Stiles or be a total glutton for punishment.

The only good thing to come of his bitchy attitude and rudeness was all the aggressive make up sex they would have afterward. It was so good, Stiles had almost wished he was starting the fights on purpose just so they had an excuse for it. Perhaps, that was what Griffin thought he was doing. Yet, no. He was not so devious. He was actually just being a huge fucking dick.

Stiles pulled his shirt over his head, making his wrist jingle. He paused at the sound, stopping to look at the source of the noise. It was his bracelet, a chain of six silver plates, each connected by a small red jewel. He had no idea where it came from. He'd just looked down one day and there it was. After noticing it and contemplating its origins, he would draw a complete blank and promptly forget it was there. Much like he did just now.

"Griffin bites you?" Danny asked, gesturing toward the pair of bite marks on Stiles' bruised, swollen, and welting shoulders. They were in the locker room after the first lacrosse practice of the season. Usually Danny wouldn’t bother glancing his way, as per locker room etiquette. But the brown and purple bruises stood out in such stark contrast to Stiles’ pale skin that he could see them from the corner of his eye as soon as he removed his shirt.

Stiles glanced at his shoulders and smirked. “Only when I want him to,” he waggled his eyebrows so Danny would catch his drift. On his other side Scott looked at his bruises too, wincing as he saw how severe they were.

“Dude, you can’t let him do that.” He looked around to make sure no one was listening. “He’s an alpha. If you’re not careful, he can kill you,” he whispered, referring to Stiles’ ignited spark and current witch status. Which just pissed him off again.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I know that,” he snapped. “We’re careful. He’d never break the skin. It’s not a big deal.” Thinking about igniting his spark was infuriating. It had been 3 weeks since he’d done it and officially become a witch, but he hadn’t been capable of doing a single act of magic. When he asked Aunt Dee about it, she simply smiled at him cryptically and told him “all in due time,” then shooed him away. That was probably the major source of his anger.

“Are you kidding me?” Danny scoffed. “I can see a perfect imprint of all of his teeth.” Danny leaned over to see the bruises better. “See, look,” he pointed. “This one even looks like he’s got a cavity.”

“He doesn’t have a cavity!”

“Look at it! You can see it, right there!”

Just then, Coach Finstock walked by, nearly dropping his clipboard as he glanced up at them. “Jesus Christ Stilinski! What the hell happened to you? Did you get into a fight with a bear?” He gestured to the 5 jagged claw marks that were scarred diagonally across his torso, from left shoulder to right hip. Matched with his two bites, that was probably exactly what it looked like.

“Nah, it was a werewolf,” Stiles deadpanned. Scott shot him a death glare.

Assuming he was just being facetious, Coach scoffed at him. “Whatever, it looks bad ass. Much better than an arrow to the stomach,” he joked, patting his belly. To add insult to injury, Stiles felt a pang of guilt at the mention of the scar coach had received last year. To his credit, Stiles felt himself being upset with the nogitsune as opposed to himself. A sure sign of progress. He felt inclined to apologize for it anyways, but Scott was still glaring at him, so he thought better of it.

Coach clapped him on the back amicably before continuing to his office. Then Scott rounded on Stiles. Before he said anything, Stiles already countered his argument. “I was joking!” he exclaimed, pulling his shirt over his head with a jingle of his bracelet. Danny shook his head, turning away from the both of them. “Coach got it!” Stiles defended.

They finished dressing and left to their respective cars. Everyone had agreed to meet up at Malia’s house about an hour after practice. Scott and Stiles had been discussing it a lot lately, and they decided that they ought to go ahead and tell Malia the truth about Peter. They had no idea how she would take it, but they figured if everyone was there, she would have a big support group in case she didn’t take it well. They didn’t really want to tell her, but knew she would find out eventually. Things like that just never stay quiet in their little group. They figured if they told her sooner rather than her finding out they were lying later, it might be easier for her to handle.

Just as Scott was rolling away on his motorcycle, Stiles realized he couldn’t find the jeep. He could have sworn he parked it right near the doors like most days. Or no, he came late today and had to park around the other side of the building. Wait. No, wasn’t that yesterday? He walked around the side of the building to look in the other parking lot. Fuck! It was empty. Where the hell was his jeep?

Just then, a big black Durango with dark, nearly blackout windows pulled into the parking lot and rolled up right next to him. The driver window rolled down to show Griffin inside. He pulled off his glasses, smiling evilly at Stiles. “Get in loser. We’re going shopping,” he called.

“What the hell did you do to my jeep?”

“To be fair, I was really mad when I did it,” Griffin teased, using the exact quote Stiles had used to justify keying the Durango.

“What, did you drag it out of the parking lot with your werewolf strength?”

“Yes.” Stiles’ mouth dropped open in shock. “I don’t know why you’re so mad _now_. I did it ages ago. It’s not my fault you never walk past it to notice.” He was quoting Stiles again. He’d keyed the passenger doors of the Durango during the first 2 weeks after his Dad was shot, when he wasn’t speaking to Griffin. Since he always drove it, he never walked past that side to see the marks left behind. So he’d only just noticed they were there yesterday, when he went to put something in the backseat.

“Okay!” Stiles surrendered. “I’m sorry! I told you I was sorry! I was on my knees, begging your forgiveness yesterday.”

“Funny,” Griffin mused. “I don’t recall any begging.”

“Okay, but I said sorry at some point. And I was definitely on my knees last night.”

“Yes, you were,” he chuckled. “Now c’mon. Get in.”

Stiles sighed at him and climbed into the car. “But seriously, where’s my jeep though?”

“I just drove it to your house on my free period,” he smiled. Stiles opened his mouth to say something, but Griffin answered him first. “I stole your keys.” He pulled them out of the center console and jingled them as he handed them over. “You aren’t the only one who steals keys for their own personal gain.”

“Yes, but there’s something slightly less malicious about it when I do it,” Stiles reasoned.

“Only slightly?” Griffin teased, reaching his hand over to lace his fingers with Stiles’. Just like that, they fell into their usual banter, joking and chatting and flirting back and forth.

As it turned out, they were not going shopping. Not that Stiles ever expected they were. They did however get McFlurries at the drive thru then sit in the parking lot, eating their ice cream and making out while they wasted their hour.

After a while, things were starting to get really heated and Stiles tried to climb over the center console to get into Griffin’s lap. Laughing, Griffin pressed him back into the passenger’s seat and Stiles let out a disappointed whine.

“We don’t have time for that,” Griffin chided, smiling still.

“We could _make_ time,” Stiles pouted back.

“No, no.” Griffin leaned over and planted a kiss on Stiles’ mouth again before pulling away and turning the engine back on. “We’re gonna be late as it is.” Stiles stuck his tongue out at him and blew a raspberry to express how he felt about that. Laughing at his boyfriend’s maturity, Griffin pulled out of the parking lot and headed on the road to Malia’s while Stiles grumbled quietly beside him.

About halfway there, Stiles suddenly jumped as if he were hit with something.

“You drove the jeep to my house right?” he asked, turning to look at Griffin. Griffin nodded back at him, squinting curiously. “So…” Stiles continued. “Did you _... walk_ back to school?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scooby Gang goes to see Malia.

Lydia and Kira were already at Malia’s house. They didn’t have lacrosse practice to go to, so they went straight to see her after school. Mr. Tate actually liked Lydia. He saw how feminine, smart, and well-adjusted she seemed and he hoped that would rub off on Malia. He wasn’t entirely sure how she’d made friends with his daughter considering she never left the house except to lay in the mud outside. But she had a friend. He didn’t dare question it. When Kira started showing up with her, he figured the more the merrier. The psychologists said socialization with her peers could only help, so he welcomed them in with open arms. Or as open as he could make them.

As for now, the boys stuck to sneaking in while Mr. Tate was out, to avoid conflict.

With lots of encouragement and no small amount of subtle threatening, Lydia had spent the last couple of weeks teaching Malia “How to People.” Or so Stiles called it. So far she’d learned of the importance of washing and brushing her hair every day. Brushing could even happen multiple times a day if necessary. Lydia had much less success convincing her not to lay in the mud after she'd already had a shower and been fully clothed. She settled for getting her to agree to at least only doing it in her old clothes that were mainly oversized tee shirts and sweat clothes anyways. Not in any of the new stuff Lydia had been buying her.

Lately she'd been working on getting Malia to wear shoes and trying to break her habit of layering her clothing like Stiles, as opposed to just wearing a coat. So far her progress had been well, but Malia still refused to wear the shoes outside, ignoring everyone's arguments that doing so kind of defeated the purpose of the shoes in the first place.

She had tried to work on Malia’s table manners for a little while, but eventually gave up. When Lydia realized she couldn't convince her of what was wrong with biting Stiles when he reached to snag food off her plate, it was decided that they would work on something easier and just come back to it.

Lydia had just finished dressing her up and putting her in her new peacoat, and was smiling appreciatively at the reflection.

“What do you think?” Lydia asked her cheerfully.

“I think…” she started, looking pensively at the girl in the mirror. “I look like a normal person.” She frowned at the thought. A part of her thought looking normal was good. That was the ultimate goal here. Another part of her thought the whole thing was ridiculous and still just wanted to be a coyote where none of this mattered.

“That’s good,” Lydia smiled at her, missing the frown and her hesitation. “Now we just need to get some makeup on you…”

“No! No no!” Malia fled across the room from her, standing up on the bed beside a laughing Kira. “We tried that already, remember?” Of course Lydia remembered, Malia threatened to claw her face off when she came at her with the eyeliner pencil.

“We just won’t wear eyeliner this time,” Lydia pleaded. “We can at least try some eye shadow, a little concealer, something.”

“No!” Malia pointed a clawed finger at her. “You stay away from my face with your brushes and your pencils and your pink chalk dust!”

“It’s blush, Malia!”

“No! I don’t like it!”

Lydia sighed heavily then raised her hands in surrender. “Fine! No makeup.” She figured she looked pretty enough without it anyways. And she had every right not to like it. She wouldn’t be the only girl to rely on her natural looks. Lydia just wanted someone to dress up, but she could manage without painting her face like a china doll.

Accepting Lydia’s surrender, Malia dropped onto the bed, bouncing a little as she landed with her legs crossed. That was where Scott found them when he snuck into the house with Danny and Isaac not too far behind. By the time Stiles and Griffin made it inside, everyone was crowded around her room complimenting her progress.

They said their helloes, then Griffin found a spot on the floor near Danny and Stiles sat leaning against his legs. Everyone chatted for a while. Kira asked how lacrosse practice was for everyone and that launched a brief tutorial for Malia on what the sport was. She said it sounded somewhat familiar, but mostly it just sounded stupid. After a little while, Scott decided to cut to the chase and just get to the reason why they were all there.

He looked to Stiles for help, and he nodded encouragingly. So he took a deep breath and just started into it. Except… He didn’t even know how to begin to broach the subject.

“Um,” he ventured warily, not really sure where he was going with this. “What do you know about your Dad?” Malia squinted at the question.

“Not much…” she offered. “Why?” Scott still wasn’t entirely sure what to say, so he looked to Stiles with a panicked expression, asking for help. Stiles tried a different tactic.

“Well,” he started. “You know, you don’t really look like your Dad much…”

“Because I was adopted.” The room let out a collective sigh and Scott looked like someone lifted an anvil off his chest. Malia just looked more confused than ever. “What’s going on?”

“We didn’t know you knew that,” Scott explained. “That makes things a lot easier.”

“Yeah, I always knew I was adopted. My parents never kept it a secret. Especially when they adopted my little sister. I was old enough to understand what was going on. They reminded me again when I started asking a bunch of questions. I don’t remember much, but I definitely remember that. I don’t understand, what does this have to do with anything?”

“Well,” Stiles tried again, stealing Scott’s tactics. “What do you know about your birth parents?”

Malia shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

“Well…”

“If you say ‘well’ one more time,” she snapped, “I’m going to _throw_ you down a well. Now what are you getting at?”

Griffin chuckled at her threat and Stiles whipped his head around to shoot him a glare.

This time Lydia spoke up. “What they’re trying to say, but can’t seem to articulate is that we know who your biological father is.”

Malia sat there, frozen. Unsure of what to make of the news. “Oh.” She said simply. She’d never really thought much about her biological parents. Having known her whole life, it never bothered her as a kid. During the years she spent as a coyote, it had been the last thing on her mind.

“That’s where things start to get complicated,” Scott continued. “We’ve known about him for a long time, but we’ve been hesitant to tell you because… he’s not really a good person.”

At that point, Danny, Kira, and Griffin were listening intently, because none of them really ever heard the full story surrounding all this.

“He’s a very…” Stiles added, “very, very… evil, manipulative, _bad_ person.”

Malia swallowed thickly, still not sure how to process. “How bad, is _bad_?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted to know or if she was just asking because she felt the need to have some sort of response.

Stiles decided to explain for her. He thought the abridged version might be what’s best. “Bad as in he went on a killing spree a year ago that started with his niece-your cousin-and ended with Kate Argent. Though Kate deserved it.” Griffin nodded in agreement. “He’s also a werewolf. He bit Scott against his will, tried to mind control him to be murder buddies with him, he kidnapped me, and bit Lydia against her will, as well as trying to kill the fo- _three_ of us and others on multiple other occasions. Finally we did manage to kill him-”

“Derek did, anyways,” Scott corrected.

“Yeah. Laura’s brother, your other cousin.”

Malia was about to open her mouth to say something but had to stop and frown when she realized Stiles wasn’t done yet. They just said they killed him. _What the hell else did he do_?

“After that, he kind of brain raped Lydia from beyond the grave, and forced her into using Derek to resurrect him.”

“What?” Malia’s mouth dropped, twisted in a frown. She _really_ didn’t know what the fuck to make of that.

“Yeah. Since then he’s mostly just been a pain in the ass, rather than completely murder-y.” Which wasn’t a lie. “But given his track record, it’s kind of just a countdown more than anything.”

“So,” Malia questioned. “You killed him?”

“Yup.”

“But he’s still alive?” Stiles nodded. “And being a pain in the ass?”

“Bingo.”

“Oh… kay?”

“What?”

“Okay…”

“Okay?” That was it? Okay? Just okay? “You don’t have anything else to say?” Stiles asked. Malia just shrugged at him.

“I mean… I never really cared about my biological parents before. So I don’t know why I should now. And apparently my father’s a psychopath and a murderer so… Fuck him.” She shrugged again. Her words were making light of it all, but Scott and Stiles could see from the tension in her shoulders that it was affecting her on a much deeper level that she didn’t want them to see. Scott wasn’t sure if that was just a coyote instinct to keep her emotions compartmentalized, or if it was a coping mechanism.

Lydia let out a breath she hadn’t meant to be holding. “Fuck him, huh?” she asked, grinning a little viciously. “I heartily agree with that sentiment.” Isaac nodded, not exactly fond of his memories of the guy either.

"I'm more interested in this cousin of mine."

"You mean Derek?" Stiles asked, suddenly getting pissed off.

"Yeah. Is he a werewolf too?" Stiles nodded. "Hmm. I-uh, I think I'd like to meet him."

"Well," Stiles started bitterly (too caught up in his bitterness to flinch at the death glare Malia shot his direction). “We’d love to introduce you two, but he disappeared nearly a month ago and no one has seen or heard from him.”

“Why?”

“ _Fuck if I know_.” Stiles spit the words out like they were poisonous. He was radiating so much pure unadulterated anger that Scott, Isaac, and Malia all turned to him in shock as they caught the scent of it spreading around the room.

Malia’s natural response to the sudden hostility was to bare her teeth at him and flash her eyes. Unfortunately, that meant she inadvertently did so to Griffin as well, who did not take so kindly to the subtle threat. He bared his teeth and flashed his red eyes back at her, growl rising low in the back of his throat. Malia submitted quickly, dropping her eyes and lowering her head, taking a few steps backwards. She didn’t want to accidentally start a fight she couldn’t finish. Griffin accepted her surrender easily enough and backed off as well, cutting his growl off abruptly, but not letting his eyes return to their usual jade green.

Griffin didn’t come with them to see Malia often, but whenever he did, for some reason or another he would always flash his eyes at her at least once. It’s not like they didn’t get along per se or openly fought about anything. It’s just that Griffin’s alpha nature didn’t quite mesh together well with Malia’s independent coyote nature and she often wound up subtly offending him somehow. He never held it against her, knowing she honestly just didn’t know better, but he always responded in kind.

Knowing that such a problem didn’t exist between Malia and Scott when he was still alpha, Stiles chalked it all up to the fact that wolves and coyotes don’t exactly get along in the wild, and that Griffin and Malia were both quite a bit more wild than the others. Thus they were each much more sensitive to that kind of thing. Griffin took slight offense to that and insisted it had more to do with bitten versus born than it did with wild versus tame.

The rest of the room took in their mini stare down with a bit of caution and intrigue. Kira, like always, found the whole thing to be interesting. Whenever something like this happened she was reminded that she and Griffin had probably had the least direct interaction out of anybody in the group. She always wondered if that was on purpose, because wolves and foxes don’t get along in the wild any more or less than coyotes do.

Danny found the whole thing to be intriguing too. Despite how long he’s known and tried desperately to avoid the supernatural world crashing down around him (or perhaps because of it), he’s still pretty new to all the things around him and these kind of interactions are interesting when he takes the time to pay attention to them as opposed to vehemently ignoring them as he usually did.

Scott found himself wanting to put a stop to it all, but no longer being an alpha himself, there was nothing he could do more than firmly insist that Griffin cut it out. To which, Griffin’s response was usually something along the lines of firmly insisting it’s not like it’s _his_ fault.

Isaac maintained his seat on the nightstand without any reaction at all. He tried to look like he was participating in their conversation, but really he was more in his own head than he was in Malia’s room.

Lydia, finding them all to be plebeian and annoying, merely rolled her eyes and moved to tug Malia off the bed, deciding that her shoes didn’t really go that well with her outfit, and going to fetch more.

Stiles, on the other hand, was still polluting the room with his anger. When Griffin growled at Malia, it took a sharp spike upward and he turned his head to round on Griffin again. His teeth were bared exactly how he saw Malia do it, and Griffin turned his fierce red glare on him.

Griffin could stare him down all he wanted. Those alpha eyes did nothing to him. Okay, sometimes they turned him on a little bit, but that wasn’t the case just then. They were simply serving to make him even angrier because Griffin was trying to pull rank on him. In fact, it pissed him off that he would try to pull rank on any of them at all because _this was not his pack_!

“Stop being so sensitive!” he snapped at Griffin.

“I’m not being sensitive-” Griffin tried to argue, but Stiles didn’t even let him finish.

“Yes you are! You’re a freaking bully!”

“I’m not being a _bully_ Stiles.”

“You’re always being a bully, and you need to cut it out.”

“And you to need relax. You’re just pissed off about Derek and you’re taking your anger out on me.”

“I’m not pissed off about Derek!” Griffin could hear the lie even though Stiles wasn’t convinced he was telling one. “I’m pissed off about you always snapping at Malia like she’s one of your insubordinate betas.”

“I don’t even have any betas-”

“Exactly so cut it the fuck out!” Stiles’ voice was so angry and high that it was just a bit shrill and it made Malia and Scott wince from across the room.

“It’s not that big of a deal Stiles!”

“It’s really not,” Malia agreed. She was sitting on the floor with her feet tucked under her butt awkwardly to keep Lydia from cramming them into the peep toe heels she was brandishing at her. “It was just a misunderstanding. Nothing to fight about,” she insisted.

Stiles opened his mouth to start cussing at the both of them, but by some miracle he decided to try out that filter thing he’d been working on and snapped it back shut. Seriously, he deserved a freaking award for the level of self-control he was exhibiting by not shouting at them. It needed a ceremony and everything. He would like to thank the academy, the people at home, and not only God, but Jesus. Sorry Taylor, he’s going to let you finish, but-

Stiles stood up and stormed out of the room dramatically. He promised himself he was going to be nicer, and he was doing really well. Honestly, standing up and leaving was a huge improvement from the way things would have ended last week. He didn’t even think about slashing either of their tires. That may have only been because Malia didn’t have a car and Griffin was Stiles’ ride home, but that wasn’t the point.

He went outside to stand by the Durango, fuming and grumbling to himself quietly. He examined the long scratch marks he’d left on the side and tried to remember the satisfying way it screeched beneath his keys in an effort to calm himself down.

Back inside the house, Griffin was apologizing for Stiles’ behavior, but everyone else just brushed it off. He’d been volatile and angry like that for weeks now. Him getting up and leaving indeed was an improvement.

Scott decided it was time to head home for dinner with his mom before she had to leave for her late shift. He checked with Malia, and she insisted she’d be fine before heading out and warning Stiles to relax. Stiles shot him a glare, but apologized, so he clapped him on the back with an amiable grin before climbing on his dirt bike and riding home.

Danny and Isaac came next, figuring Isaac should be home for dinner as well. Danny gave Malia a hug as he left, laughing at the bewildered look she gave him.

Lydia and Kira were planning on staying until Mr. Tate got home, so Griffin was the last one to come trailing out, receiving a glare from Lydia that he didn’t understand. He approached the Durango quietly, receiving no response from Stiles who was standing on the other side, still stinking of misplaced rage, with a hint of guilt and the tiniest lining of sadness born from being lonely.

He sighed heavily and unlocked the car, wincing when Stiles climbed in it silently and slammed the door shut.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin and Stiles fight in the car.
> 
> This is kind of short because it's mostly dialogue.

Chapter Break

Griffin and Stiles rode in tense silence for a while, neither wanting to initiate conversation while irritated with the other. Stiles’ foot was tapping on the floor, creating a persistent thumping sound that merely added to the agitation clouding the cabin. Eventually, Griffin flicked the radio on to drown it out.

Halfway to Stiles’ house, Griffin finally caved and turned down the radio to say something. He probably should have just kept his mouth shut because Stiles sure as hell didn’t want to hear it.

“What is your problem?” Griffin asked.

“I don’t have a problem,” Stiles argued. “I’m just sick of you acting like an alpha all the time.”

“I _am_ an alpha all the time,” defended Griffin, squinting his eyes in confusion. “I can’t turn that off!”

“Well maybe you should try! You can’t keep treating Malia that way!”

“What way? It’s not like I’m being an asshole-”

“That’s debatable.”

“And she’s not even upset about it herself. So why are you?”

“Because you can’t keep doing it, and somebody has to be!”

They drifted into silence again as Stiles fumed and Griffin contemplated what was really going on.

“You know,” he started, “I only growled at Malia because she threatened us first.”

“Us?” Stiles’ eyebrows rose on his forehead. “What do you mean us? She bared her teeth at _me_?”

Griffin waved a hand and ignored him. If she was giving Stiles a challenge, she was giving Griffin one too. That’s just how that works. That much was obvious so he continued talking.

“The only reason she growled was because you were sending so much hostility at her _first_ that she rose to the threat. So don’t try to tell me you’re mad because of what _I_ did. I only did what I did, because you were pissed off first!”

Stiles thought over the flow of events and knew that Griffin was right. He didn’t have a rebuttal for that explanation, so for once Stiles kept his mouth shut. Griffin took that as his cue to keep talking. He probably shouldn’t have.

“This is about Derek, isn’t it?”

“What. The fuck. Are you talking about?” Stiles gaped at him incredulous. How does Derek factor into any of this?

“You were talking about Derek when you got all pissy. Just like the last time we had a fight. Because you got mad when Derek was brought up in conversation. Why the fuck are you so upset about him?”

“I’M NOT!” Stiles shouted. It was loud enough that in the enclosed space, Griffin had to flinch to keep both hands on the wheel instead of clapping them over his ears. Stiles noticed and lowered his voice by a couple decibels. Okay maybe a decibel and a half.

“Why does everything have to boil down to fucking Derek? You and your Panselinos versus Hale rivalry are not the center of the god damned universe. Why can’t I _just_ be mad?”

“Because you weren’t mad until Derek came into the picture.”

“Maybe I’m mad because my father got shot in the chest and he’s sitting at home right now recovering from a bullet wound. Maybe I’m mad because I ignited my spark three fucking weeks ago and yet I still haven’t done a single thing of magic and your freaking Aunt refuses to teach me! Maybe I’m fucking _livid_ about that!

Griffin rolled his eyes at the mentions of magic. It definitely didn’t go unnoticed, but Stiles barreled on to his point anyways.

“Or maybe I’m still pissed because my friend died a few weeks ago while she was trying to save me! Or how about the fact that two of my other friends got kidnapped by an alpha pack and I was right there! I had been right fucking there just hours before but I couldn’t even help them escape. Then they both died because of it. Then lets not forget the part where I had to die and come back again to keep _my English teacher_ from ritually sacrificing my Dad. This—of course— _after_ she ritually sacrificed one of my only childhood friends, minutes after I’d left her side. And that’s all just been _this_ school year!

“So, yeah! Sure! I haven’t seen Derek since the night I almost died, and maybe that’s a little upsetting too. But did it ever occur to you that _you and Derek_ aren’t the only things going on in my life? The world does not revolve around the two of you and your petty family feud.”

“That’s not fair,” Griffin replied. “I’m not making this about me-”

“Well it sure the hell isn’t about _Derek_!”

“Except that it is!” Stiles threw his arms up in exasperation, smacking them on the roof, then dropping them back down into his lap. Griffin ignored him. “I get that your life’s been hell. Mine hasn’t been a cakewalk either. And it’s perfectly okay to be upset about that. But don’t pretend that _that_ _’s_ what this is. It’s only when Derek is mentioned that you kick up a fuss like this. That’s not just some coincidence _every_ time. There’s something going on with you about him. There has always been something going on between the two of you and you’re trying so hard to hide it. That makes me suspicious as fuck!”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, much the same way his father often did when talking to him. “Something like _what_ , Griffin?”

“I don’t know-”

“Maybe you don’t know because there’s nothing going on. It doesn’t even make any sense, because how could there be something going on with somebody who _isn_ _’t even here_? He’s not here Griffin! He’s fucking gone and I have no idea where he is or why he left me-”

“And there it goes.” Griffin said calmly, identifying the problem.

“There _what_ goes?”

Griffin shook his head back at him. “That’s the issue here,” he explained. “You’re upset because he left you.”

Stiles’ eyes dashed around the cabin wildly in search of some sense, because clearly Griffin didn’t have any. Maybe there was change in the cup holder or something. “I didn’t fucking say that!” he insisted.

“Not outright,” Griffin agreed. “But that’s exactly what you meant!”

“If that was what I’d meant, that’s what I would have said. Besides, you didn’t even let me finish. How are you going to assume to know what I supposedly _really meant_ when I didn’t even complete the thought? Or are you a mind reader? Cause if so, you might want to troubleshoot that shit. Something somewhere got fucked up, if that’s what you’re hearing.”

“Okay then. Complete the thought.” Griffin hardly needed him to. No matter what he said, Griffin could clearly see what was going on under the surface. Stiles might be deluding himself into thinking he’s just mad for whatever other reason, but the truth of the matter was that he was pissed off because Derek left. Stiles almost quite literally just spelling it out was merely confirmation of what Griffin had been suspecting all along. There was obviously something so much more than friendship between those two. Way more than just two people that barely tolerated each other, the way Stiles liked to portray it. Griffin really didn’t want to think about what that meant for their relationship, but if they continued fighting like this about it with Stiles refusing to be honest, it wasn’t about to mean anything good.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I was saying I didn’t know where he was or why he would have left me and my Dad after what happened. We could have been _dying_. In fact, we actually were! He didn’t visit us in the hospital or anything. He just up and disappeared without a word or a warning and hasn’t made any type of contact ever since. Regardless of whatever imaginary relationship you seem to think the two of us have, that’s a pretty shitty thing to do. Don’t you think?”

Stiles had a point. However his explanation was still missing that one little key component that would explain why being a shithead for the past 3 weeks was a reasonable response to the situation.

“What I think is pretty shitty,” Griffin explained as he turned down Stiles’ street. “Is using one's misplaced rage as an excuse for being a complete fucking dick to one’s friends and treating one’s boyfriend like a piece of crap.”

Stiles heaved a put upon sigh. “Look. I know I haven’t been acting like myself lately, but I’m sorry! I’ve told you about a million times I’m fucking sorry! I’m trying to be better about it. You know I am. But I’m still just pissed off— _about more than fucking Derek_ —and none of the reasons for it have gone away. So it’s still a little hard for me. You being a posturing and controlling _alpha_ ,” he spit the word like it tasted sour, “isn’t fucking helping at all!”

“Yeah, there’s really nothing I can do about the alpha thing. What I don’t understand is why it’s bothering you so much. It was never a problem before.”

"That's because you were never using it as an excuse to be an asshole before! I mean, you've always been manipulative and controlling, but the posturing thing is new. It's only been happening now that you're the only alpha in town."

"I couldn't care less about being the only alpha in town. This isn't my territory and I'm not trying to take it from anyone. You know that." Griffin shook his head in disbelief, surprised that Stiles would even think that was something he needed to worry about. "And I'm sorry that you think my natural tendency to take charge when no one else will is controlling, but that doesn't made me manipulative."

"No," Stiles agreed. "That doesn't make you manipulative. But your tendency to manipulate people and situations into doing things the way you want them does."

"When have I ever even done that?" Griffin pulled up in front of the Stilinski house and put the car in park, turning to fix Stiles with a piercing glare that shot spikes of pure poison straight to his heart. It was enough to momentarily derail Stiles' train of thought and make his heart leap to his throat traitorously. It only worked for a second before his brain caught up with him and he was right back on track.

"You do that shit all the time!"

"Like when?"

"Like when we were at Scott's house that time before Mariah, and you made me kiss you before I could leave."

What the hell was Stiles talking about? "You kissed me!"

"Because you manipulated me into it!"

"I didn't tell you to kiss me! You just did."

"Because you made me want to. You planted the idea in my head, then you made me feel like I had to."

"How could I have done that without saying anything about it?"

"Because you're really good at manipulation."

"Or because you're crazy and all of this is going on inside of your head."

"Except that it's not. Just as clearly as you think you can see something going on between me and Derek, that's as clearly as I can tell when you're manipulating me. The only difference being that I'm not stupid, so what I'm seeing is actually real."

"So you're calling me stupid?"

"Well if the shoe fits..."

"So..." Griffin deduced angrily. "I'm a stupid, manipulative, controlling, posturing alpha?"

Stiles crossed his arms and shrugged, not saying yes outright, but definitely not disagreeing.

Griffin let out a disappointed sigh before reaching across the cabin and pushing open Stiles' door.

"Get out!" he said simply. Stiles looked over at him incredulous, mouth hanging open in shock.

When Stiles didn't move, Griffin reached over to unbuckle his seatbelt then prodded him in the shoulder with a pair of long fingers, ushering him out of the seat.

"Really?" Stiles shouted at him. "You're just gonna throw me out of your car?"

"You're at your house aren't you?" Griffin gestured sharply toward the Stilinski abode, dropping his eyebrows with concern when Stiles flinched at his hand pointing across his face. Not enough concern to ensure him that he'd never hit him.

Stiles hopped out of the Durango in a huffy, stumbling a little as he hit the ground.

He came back to snatch his backpack and slammed the door shut, snarling back through the window. "This is why I keyed your car! YOU ASSHOLE!"

Griffin sped away, knowing the Sheriff was otherwise incapacitated and not worrying about breaking any traffic laws going down his street. Stiles screeched at the back of his car in frustration, flailing his arms as well, but only just a little bit.

“Stiles?” a voice called out behind him suddenly.

"WHAT?” he rounded on whoever was stupid enough to try and talk to him right now. He saw a petite Mexican woman giving him a dirty look and flinched out of survival instinct. “Sorry Melissa!” he rushed to apologize, anger deflating as he scrambled to decide if he could charm his way out of this one.

Yeah right. He couldn’t charm his way out of a box of marshmallow cereal with a leprechaun on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of assholes, being assholes...
> 
> I realized... I put so many pop culture references in this story.  
> So many!  
> I am ashamed!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles acknowledges that he's an asshole and lots of pop culture references.
> 
> Seriously I should be ashamed.

Chapter Break (Friday After School)

Stiles expected Griffin to come climbing through his window at some point that night. He was sorely disappointed when he realized he'd spent the entire night waiting up for him, but Griffin never showed up. He managed to get 2 hours’ worth of sleep before heading into school late, having still not heard a word from him.

The school day has halfway over and he was still receiving the silent treatment when he realized that _maybe_ he was the one who should be looking for Griffin and apologizing.

Okay. Maybe like a lot. Fine. Stiles was in the wrong. Ugh. He knew that. He was being an asshole and he was an idiot for saying such mean things to Griffin. Again.

He spent the whole day being miserable and lonely and sorry. He attempted to pull together some half assed apology during lunch, but Griffin was nowhere to be found. Well, he was probably in the library, but Stiles didn't bother to look in there because of some reason that was very important and made a whole lot of sense. It definitely wasn't because he was a coward at all. Nope. That wasn't it.

Regardless, Stiles took the opportunity to come up with a better apology than the one he was working with. 'Don't be mad at me anymore because it puts me in a shitty mood and when I'm in a shitty mood I just want to cuddle with you, but I can't do that because you're mad at me,' probably wasn't going to cut it.

So that night, he drove to Griffin's house and let himself in with his key (Scaring the shit out of Lauren in the process.)

Griffin was sitting on his bed, leaning against a pile of pillows that Stiles swears gets bigger every time he sees it. Honestly, the first time he’d been to Griffin’s house he had maybe 4 pillows on his bed. The last time he’d stayed the night there was so many that they had to throw some on the floor in order to make room for sexy times. This time Griffin was resting within a veritable pillow fort. Seriously, there had to be at least 12 pillows on his fucking bed. Where the hell did he get all of them?

His hair was damp and slicked back as if he’d just gotten out of the shower not too long ago and he was wearing a loose purple tank top with Lumpy Space Princess’ face in the middle. His legs were stretched out beneath his blanket with his laptop balanced on top of them. Stiles already knew what he was watching without even needing to see the screen. He had on a pair of “noise cancelling” headphones that really just meant he was reduced to an ordinary human’s level of hearing. Because of that, Stiles was able to sneak up on him a bit when he flung the door open and flopped onto his bed.

Griffin was definitely caught unaware, just barely managing to keep himself from jumping. He did much better at keeping his eyes from flashing, though. He reached over to pause his movie, sparing a dark glance at Stiles over the laptop screen, but left the headphones on.

Stiles had gone over how he’d wanted this conversation to go in his head, an unusual task for him. Usually he just let words fly out of his mouth, or he’d come up with them a few moments before he was saying them. However, he thought this conversation was important, so he went ahead and premeditated it a little. All of that flew out of the window the second he saw how fucking adorable Griffin looked cuddled up under the blankets in his pajamas with his favorite movie. So rather than saying something nice, or something that may have sounded like it might be geared toward an apology, he decided to tease him instead.

“Are you sulking?” he asked, smirk teasing at his lips and laughter clear in his voice. Griffin glared at him.

“No,” he insisted, pulling a hand from beneath his blankets to reveal a fistful of hot Cheetos and cramming them in his still frowning mouth.

“You sure?” Stiles couldn’t suppress his chuckle well enough. “Cause you’re eating in bed and watching your favorite movie with a forlorn look on your face. It kinda looks like sulking.”

“Mean Girls is a classic!” Griffin argued around his Cheetos, catching one as it fell out of his mouth and putting it back in there. This is why those two assholes were probably meant for each other or something. “Maybe I’m just having a movie night.”

Stiles didn’t even try to conceal the laugh that time. “It’s like seven o’ clock and you’re in your pajamas already.”

Griffin lifted a cup from beneath his comforter without meeting Stiles’ eyes. “I fail to see your point,” he intoned flatly before sipping at the red straw. “Did you need something?”

Stiles ducked his head as he laughed some more, trying to rein it back in so he could launch into his apology.

It didn’t work.

“Got any candy under there?” he teased instead. Stiles heard the crinkling of plastic and darted his head up in disbelief just in time to get smacked in the face with a green and yellow gummy worm.

“Anything else?” Griffin wiggled his neck a little sassily at him. A stranger would have thought Griffin was getting angrier by the way he set his jaw and narrowed his eyes into a bitch face, the likes of which could rival Sam Winchester on a good day (or a bad one?). Stiles knew better. All of those things—even throwing the gummy worm—were actual evidence that Stiles’ teasing was helping to lighten him up a bit.

Stiles plucked the worm from where it landed on the blanket and promptly bit it in half, waving the green piece through the air as he spoke. “Do you have any ice cream?”

“I’m not giving you any ice cream.”

“But you do _have_ some?” Griffin gave an exasperated sigh, but otherwise didn’t answer. That was an answer in itself. “It’s not rocky road is it? I hate rocky road. I bet its cookies and cream. I like that one. I do love Oreos.”

Stiles got hit in the face by an Oreo cookie and this time Griffin actually laughed. He chuckled quietly as Stiles sputtered and dusted crumbs off his nose.

“See!” Stiles snatched up the cookie and waved it in the same hand as the bisected gummy worm. “I told you, you were sulking!”

“Oh and I wonder why that is?” Griffin put a whole cookie in his mouth as he levelled Stiles with an accusatory glare.

“Probably,” Stiles started, finally starting to feel a bit of that chagrin he’d been carrying when he was walking up the stairs. “Because you have a pretty shitty boyfriend.” Stiles winced when Griffin nodded in agreement as he crunched on his Oreo. “A shitty boyfriend who’s really sorry. Who knows he shouldn’t talk to you the way he did, and he can’t promise he’ll never do it again, but he can promise he’ll try. He’s just been having a pretty craptastic few months and he’s really getting sick of it. It’s angering and it sucks, and that’s gonna come out sometimes. That’s no excuse to take it out on you, because he knows it’s going to drive you away. He really doesn’t want to do that.

“His entire life is fucked over and under. Sometimes he can’t tell if this is real life or the most fucked up inception style nightmare to ever occur or not, and it feels like you’re the only thing that’s real. Even though most days he’s pretty sure he had to have dreamed you up. That’s the only way you could be here. But then you touch him, or he hears you speak and he can feel it vibrating in his bones—like electricity on his skin—and everything turns clear. Then he knows that this is real. That this is what matters.

“Your boyfriend is an idiot for pushing you away. That’s not what he wants at all. You mean too much to him for that. Sometimes he just gets caught up in his anger and he doesn’t see how much he’s hurting you with it until the damage is already done. He’s sorry and he’ll do better because he doesn’t want to be like that with you. He doesn’t want to be like that at all. He’s being an asshole and somewhere underneath that is… slightly less of an asshole that’s actually kind of funny instead of just mean. That’s who he wants to be, if you’ll forgive him and let him try again.”

Griffin closed his eyes and sighed, taking a deep breath and holding for a second before letting go. “If that’s what my boyfriend thinks, then I suppose I owe him an apology too. I know he’s stressed out and upset and I should be more supportive of him and less antagonistic. Most of all, I shouldn’t be adding fuel to the fire by projecting my insecurities onto him and starting fights where there was none, or making mild ones worse. If he can forgive me for that, then I can forgive him back.”

Stiles nodded happily. “I think that can be arranged.”

Griffin moved his laptop to the nightstand and threw back his blanket, revealing a metric fuck ton of junk food and candy beneath it. He pushed most of it to one side then pulled Stiles over to the empty space so he could get his arms around him and give Stiles a kiss. It was sweet and lingering. It tasted like Oreos and Dr. Pepper, and Stiles relaxed into it with a huge weight off his shoulders.

"You're a jerk," Griffin smiled against his lips. "But I love you." Stiles laughed.

"I know," he promised.

Griffin used his nose to tip Stiles' chin back before latching his mouth onto his neck and leaving s trail of open mouthed kisses. Stiles buried a hand into his barely damp hair as he started in on a hickey at the junction of his neck and shoulder.

"Wait," he called out breathily. "Before you get too carried away with that..."

"Hmm?" Griffin hummed against his neck, urging him to go on and sending a shiver down his spine.

"Uh... are you really not going to give me any ice cream?" Griffin tugged his mouth away with a quiet smack, laughing.

"You're ridiculous!" He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his half pint of cookies and cream ice cream, thrusting it at Stiles.

Stiles snickered as he accepted it, catching the spoon where it nearly tipped out. "What?" He asked. "Did you run out of room under your blanket?"

"No!" Griffin argued, beaming still. "It was too warm under there. It would have melted." Duh Stiles. Griffin thought that was pretty obvious.

"My mistake." Stiles dipped the spoon into the tub, taking a big scoop but only actually eating part of it. He groaned in pleasure around the cutlery before flipping it over and shoving the whole thing into his mouth. He hummed quietly, pulling it out slowly as he scraped the remaining ice cream onto his tongue. "This is the best. I would literally never disagree with you about anything ever again if you just fed me this all the time." He paused thoughtfully for a second. "And curly fries," he added, taking another scoop. "Ice cream, curly fries, and sex. Then I'd be a happy boy forever."

“You’d be a _fat_ boy forever,” Griffin amended.

“Fat and happy,” Stiles agreed, taking careful, slow licks of the treat. Griffin watched the movement of his tongue in mild fascination.

“If you’re done sexually assaulting my spoon, I would like my ice cream back, thanks.” He laughed.

Stiles gave an awkward screech of a laugh with his tongue still sticking out. He kind of looked like a squawking bird. “What?”

“Seriously. My spoon and I are considering pressing charges. You should probably send a call to your lawyer.”

Stiles hung out in Griffin’s room long enough for them to finish Mean Girls. By the time it was finished, Lauren had come up the stairs to tell Griffin she was done for the day and was heading home. After she was gone, Aunt Dee poked her head in the door to say hi to Stiles.

“Long time no see,” she told him, smirking.

“Did…” Stiles wasn’t sure if he’d heard right. “Did you just make a _blind_ pun?”

“Yes, Stiles.” She rolled her eyes at him in exasperation.

Without further ado, she told them she was going down to her basement (or lair as Stiles called it) and bid them farewell. She shot Stiles a wink over her shoulder before heading down the hall.

Stiles stared after her in confusion for a minute, unsure what that meant.

“You can go down there and talk magic with her, if you want,” Griffin offered, seeing him staring.

“You sure?”

“Is everyone still hanging out on Sunday?”

On Saturday Scott had work the whole afternoon, Lydia was being forced to spend time with her father, and Griffin had been recruited to be Aunt Dee and Lauren’s slave for the day. So the rest of the group had planned to hang out together on Sunday and take Malia out in public for a while. For the most part, she knew how to behave on public outings. Large groups of people and unfamiliar places just stressed her out and accidents were bound to happen. However, she still needed practical experience in “Learning How to People,” so a big group outing seemed a fun if not interesting way for her to get some.

Stiles nodded in confirmation so Griffin pulled him into a kiss. First on the lips, then behind the ear, then on the spot on Stiles’ neck he’d left a hickey earlier, nipping at it quickly to turn it a brighter shade of red.

“See you on Sunday then.” Griffin pushed him gently toward the door, shooing him with a small flap of his arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some strange reason I keep picturing Griffin with long ass hair. Like, all the way down his back long. Why? Why? I don't know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles follows Aunt Dee to her lair.
> 
> Stuff happens! STUFF!

Chapter Break

 “You want to learn magic, Stiles?” Aunt Dee asked into the darkness after hearing Stiles stumble and nearly brain himself on his way down the stairs.

“Yes!” Stiles let out an exasperated sigh as he scrambled toward her table. “For fuck’s sake, yes-OW!”

“Fine, I’ll teach you,” she agreed, frowning at the way the table rattled when he bumped into it. She clapped her hands twice, willing the candles spread around the large room to light up and hopefully lessen the amount of damage Stiles would cause. “But first-” she held up a hand to silence him, already knowing he was going to try to protest. “I’m going to teach you something else.”

“Like what?” he asked incredulously. He just wanted to do some magic already, goddammit. She’d been telling him ‘not yet’, and handing him books instead for weeks now. No matter how hard he begged, all she ever gave him was some vague, fortune cookie-esque comment that was just a fancy way of saying no. How was she going to dangle it in his face right off the bat, then take it away from him, just like that?

“I’m going to teach you the most valuable lesson you will ever learn.” Hmm. Okay. Now that sounded interesting. Stiles perked up and looked at her expectantly. “I’m going to teach you how to lie to a werewolf.”

She winked at him and turned around, rummaging through one of her cabinets. She removed two jugs of mysterious looking liquids, a clear glass cup, and something black and dried about the size of a walnut. She set it all on the table and pushed it toward him, beckoning him to fill the cup halfway with each jug. She told him there should be lines on the glass to indicate where the fill line and exactly half were located. Stiles did as he was told while she picked out a small jar of pink powder and a vial of something purple and the consistency of mayonnaise.

When they were both finished, Stiles pressed the glass back into her hands and she set it down, dumping all of the pink powder and the purple stuff into it. Stiles couldn’t help but notice the specific way she did so. She held the glass so that it was exactly aligned with her sternum. When she brought the jar and the vial down to the cup, she lined them up with her sternum at chest level, then lowered them down in a straight line. When they reached the glass, she used her pinky as a cushion between the cup and what she was pouring to make sure that she would be pouring them _into_ the glass and not over the side. The whole thing was very precise, and calculated.

Her movements always were. From the way she drug her hands along counters, shelves, or the table in front of her to get her bearings on the things around her, to the way he noticed her taking explicit strides when walking, as if counting her steps. It was never obvious. Her movements were never stilted or abrupt. They were always smooth and subtle as if she’d done them a million times. If Stiles weren’t inclined to watch her so hard, he’d have never noticed them himself. She sometimes operated so easily around her lair that Stiles would forget that she was blind. Really, she was just so familiar and practiced that it came to her like second nature and she didn’t need eyesight to navigate it properly.

Finally, she dropped the black… whatever-it-was… inside and fished a long spoon from a drawer, stirring it all.

After a few revolutions around the glass, the black thing started to dissolve, turning gummy and thickening the mixture. Aunt Dee withdrew her spoon and lifted the glass. She used a little magic to heat it up, making the contents bubble and froth. It turned colors from a murky black to red like fruit punch. It even smelled fruity. She handed it to Stiles and insisted he drink it, promising it wasn’t as gross as it looked.

He complied, smacking his lips in surprise at the flavor. It was actually pretty delicious. It didn’t taste anything like it smelled, but it was good. He drained the whole glass, asking what to do next. Aunt Dee smiled at him and reached for one of the two pitchers she’d brought out first. Her fingers bumped into it, rocking it a little and she frowned, not having expected it to be so close.

She looked back toward Stiles, pointing at the pitcher. “Is this the red one, or the purple one?” she asked, confusion clear on her face. Stiles’ heart dropped to the pit of his stomach and he swallowed a little nervously.

Reaching across the table, he grabbed Aunt Dee’s hand and placed it on the pitcher nearest to her. “This one is _green_ ,” then he moved it to the next one, “and this one is _blue_.” Aunt Dee frowned even harder at that.

“Oh shit.”

“ _WHAT_?” Stiles was starting to freak out. “What did you do? What did you make me drink?”

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” she soothed, scrambling around her cabinets and removing all sorts of jars filled with random things. “It’s going to be fine.” She nodded at him encouragingly. “Just… don’t… elevate your heart rate.” That just made Stiles panic more and flail his arms around while making incoherent, frustrated sounds. “Relax!” she commanded him, a little frantically. He sat still—mostly—but he wasn’t actually any calmer, so Aunt Dee started moving a little faster.

She pulled out a bowl and started filling it with the things she pulled from the jars. Various colored powders, a few different creams, the wings from a couple of viceroy butterflies, something that looked like red corn, a giant fang (that Stiles was going to ask how she got a hold of later), a handful of iridescent scales (another thing Stiles was going to have to ask about), an eyeball that she squished in her hand first, what looked like a pointed dog’s ear, a small red vial labeled “blood of a virgin,” (seriously, what the hell), and a test tube of a suspicious yellow liquid. When she poured the last ingredient in, Stiles was hit by a strong, pungent smell and he had to hold back the urge to wretch.

“What is that?” he asked, around a gag building in his throat, making a pinched face and turning away from Aunt Dee’s bowl of horrors. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Do I want to know? No. I don’t wanna know. _Oh my god_ , what is that?”

“You don’t want to know,” she informed him. He nodded, taking her word for it and chanced a glance in her direction. She was now mixing the bowl vigorously with the giant fang, making loud clunking sounds as the more solid pieces bumped against the sides. She finished and set it down, reaching back into her drawer for a large spoon. She took a big scoop, then lifted the spoon to her mouth and whispered something to it. Whatever she’d said was too quiet and Stiles couldn’t make it out. However, after she said it, the spoonful of smelly gray mixture turned blue and began steaming. “Here,” she offered it to him.

“No, thank you,” he winced at it, turning his head back away.

“Stiles!” Aunt Dee came around the table and thrust it toward his head. “You need to eat this, right now!” He looked at it, seeing a butterfly wing and the point of the dog’s ear sticking out, then gagged for real.

“That’s okay, I think I’d rather die,” he proclaimed, leaning away from it like a petulant child. She thrust it at him again, huffing impatiently. He put his hands up to push it away and screamed when he saw them. “Oh my god! My fingers are turning purple!”

“Eat this, child!” she ordered him. He whimpered, shaking his head. It was so gross, she must be out of her mind. Suddenly, Stiles dropped to the ground as he lost the feelings in his legs. He clutched at the table, trying to hold himself up, but finally smacked into the floor as his arms gave out too. The purple had traveled past his sleeves and up his arms. He whined more as the vision in his right eye started flickering in an out, altering his perception and switching back in rapid succession.

“Fine-fine-fine!” he shouted in defeat. “Just know that I hate you!” He reached for the spoon but was unable to curl his fingers around it. Instead, he put his hand under Aunt Dee’s and guided her toward his mouth. She had to lean really far down and he whimpered pathetically the entire time, but finally he got it into his mouth.

It didn’t actually taste as bad as he assumed it would, but it didn’t taste good either. Most of all, he could feel the ear and the wings in his mouth and that alone made him want to vomit. He opened his mouth to let out a dramatic sob, refusing to chew it.

“You have to chew it Stiles or else you’ll choke,” Aunt Dee instructed him. He wasn’t entirely sure if that wasn’t the better option.

“Ah hett yoo! Ah hett yoo foh mutz!” he shouted around the mush. Giving up, he chewed it—oh dear God, he could feel the wings crunching between his teeth, and the cartilage in the ear was so _chewy_ —and swallowed. “My god! I want to die…” he whined, falling back onto the floor, writhing in disgust.

“Oh stop being a baby,” Aunt Dee scolded him, moving back to clear up the mess she’d made.

“Being a baby?” Stiles yelled at her. His vision returned to normal and the feeling returned to his arms and legs immediately. “You almost killed me!” He stood up and pointed a purple finger at her, watching the color drain away as it returned to its usual pale tone.

“No I didn’t,” Aunt Dee scoffed at him. “You were going to be just fine.”

“… What?”

… What?

“You heard me.”

“So all of that,” he waved his arms around, gesturing to… everything. “And I would have been just fine?” Stiles was incredulous. That was so mean. “You made it seem like I was dying!”

“I know. How else was I going to get you to chew and swallow a whole wolf’s ear and butterfly wings? And let’s not even get started on the stuff that got dissolved in there.”

“I can’t believe you! So you did that thing with the wrong colored liquids on purpose, then?” She raised her eyebrows at him as if to say, duh. “There are so many things wrong with you,” he accused. She walked back around the table and reached for him, tapping his chest. She measured the distance to his nose with her fingers, then slid one over and poked him in the eye. “Ow! You’re so _evil_!” He reached up to clutch his eye, backing away from her.

“So I’ve been told,” she smirked at him, but he didn’t see it. That reply kind of caught him off guard because he’d never actually heard anything like that. In fact he’d only ever heard or felt the opposite. She was kind of awesome. When she wasn’t being al little shit. That left him wondering who had ever called her evil and why. “I’ll see you later, then.” She waved, shooing him toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Stiles was confused. “You said you were going to teach me how to lie to a werewolf.”

“I did,” she nodded, agreeing with him.

“So are you going to teach me to lie to a werewolf or not? For that matter, what did any of this have to do with that?” She smiled at him cryptically. Okay, maybe not evil, but certainly annoying. She was getting like Deaton—ever mysterious, and helping without really helping. It was getting on his nerves.

“Have you ever heard of the method for teaching a child to swim where their parents simply throw them into the deep end and expect them not to drown?” He nodded, confusion plain on his face. “Well, consider yourself in the deep end.” Stiles wasn’t following her at all.

“What are you talking about?”

She waved her fingers at him, not answering.

“Bye Stiles,” she sang, turning away to finish cleaning up.

He stared at her for another few moments, more confused and frustrated than ever, then turned around to head up the stairs. No, she was definitely evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder that all things related to witches and spells are created by me. They follow no specific lore outside of the ones in my head created specifically for this. So all witchy things are belong to us!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up and has a strange Saturday.
> 
> Warning: this chapter is full of a whole lot of bullshit that really has nothing to do with anything, and a little bit of something that actually has something to do with something.
> 
> But it's kind of informative so...

Chapter Break (Saturday)

Stiles slept in late, catching up on the sleep he’d missed from the night before. He didn’t rise into the world of the living until nearly 1 o’ clock. Even then, the only real reason he’d woken up was because Melissa barged into his room then shook him awake. And by shake he meant she literally had to shake his whole body to get him to wake up. She rolled him back and forth while he whined his way into consciousness until she accidentally rolled to hard and he got away from her. He went careening off the bed, landing on the floor in a tangle of limbs and bed sheets.

Nothing he wasn’t used to. Only this time he could actually blame it on somebody else. That was new.

He ate lunch with his dad, Scott’s mom, and Isaac, who’d followed Melissa over.

Isaac was strangely dejected and quiet. Melissa kept shooting him concerned looks as if she could tell something was wrong, but had no idea what or how to fix it. She kept asking if he felt ill, but he just kept saying no. As a werewolf, he couldn’t actually get sick anyways.

Stiles tried to cajole him into a rousing session of video games afterward. Okay, technically he tossed the controller to him then quirked an eyebrow at him before turning his 360 on. There wasn’t actually any speech involved. In fact he hadn’t spoken to him the entire afternoon. But he approached the games with the same vacant and distracted disposition as before (despite the fact that he kicked Stiles’ ass in almost all of them).

Isaac had been like that a lot lately. He’d been spending a lot more time by himself—or following Melissa around like a lost puppy—instead of with the rest of the pack. When he was with the pack, he was always the same way. He pretended to listen to conversations, but never contributed. He listened to anything anyone told him without question or his usual level of snark and back sass. He hadn’t initiated a conversation in weeks. If Stiles thought about it hard enough, he would have noticed that Isaac literally hadn’t said a single word directly to him or Scott since Scott gave up his alpha status. Whenever they spoke to him, he either gave a noncommittal shrug or just flat out didn’t answer.

Stiles did notice that Isaac probably hadn’t looked Scott in the eye since Allison died.

Stiles didn’t really know what to do about it. Neither had Scott, the one time they talked about it. Although they hadn’t addressed the Allison thing. Melissa was at a loss as well. She considered sending him to counseling right after everything that happened with the nogitsune, but he seemed to be doing better after spending time with Chris Argent, so she didn’t bother. She honestly couldn’t really afford it anyways. The time he’d spent with the older man hadn’t lasted long, and Isaac seemed to be drifting further and further into himself.

After their awkward afternoon, Melissa and Isaac left, leaving Stiles alone with his Dad. They vegged out on the couch and Stiles let John guilt trip him into ordering pizza. Not enough guilt for him to order the meat lover’s, but the Sheriff was just glad that he was getting pizza crust and sauce this time. The last time he asked Stiles for pizza, he received a plate of pita chips, veggie sticks, string cheese, and some encouragement to use his imagination.

While waiting for their dinner, John flipped through some old case files he’d been brought by Deputy Adamski about a week ago to keep him occupied. Next to him, Stiles texted back and forth with Kira and Danny while minding his own business and definitely not reading the files over his Dad’s shoulder.

Okay. Nobody was buying that. John hadn’t shooed him away yet, though. So he kept doing it.

A few minutes after the pizza got there, Scott came and knocked on the door. Stiles opened it while still chewing on a slice. He made a noise of greeting to Scott then gestured him into the house.

“Oh, pizza,” Scott smiled. “Looks like I came just in time.” He said hi to the Sheriff, then grabbed a slice and followed Stiles up to his room.

Stiles leapt onto his bed, making the pizza bounce up and down on his plate when he landed. Scott sat down in his desk chair, much more civilly, then immediately launched into a story of this pitbull named Diablo that he and Deaton had seen earlier. Apparently the thing had been going crazy and the owner thought he was rabid. He wasn’t, but they couldn’t get him to calm down and he was trying to bite everyone. He actually did bite Scott, but not enough to break the skin.

The owner was insisting Deaton put it down, claiming how it was such a mistake to adopt a pitbull from the shelter in the first place and going on and on about how it was such a vicious dog. Deaton agreed to take the dog, but wasn’t going to euthanize it. He was going to have Scott set him up in the room in the back and would call the shelter to come pick him up. Whatever they decided to do with him was out of Deaton’s hands.

Scott had been just about to do that when he realized the reason he was trying to bite everyone was to keep them from touching him. When he realized that, he flashed his eyes at him to get him to hold still. It didn’t work completely because it lacked that extra oomph that comes with being an alpha, but it worked enough that Scott could take a good look at him. When he did, he realized that there was a tiny whole in his left flank right along the line where the white fur met the black fur in a speckled brindle pattern.

Scott had called Deaton over to take a look at it and was able to tell that there was something in there. It looked like he’d been stabbed by something that broke off in the wound. Judging by how the wound had been almost completely healed around it, the thing must have been stuck inside him for weeks.

So Deaton sedated the dog then went to remove the piece that had been stabbing him. When he pulled it out, it was a 4 inch long piece of chain link fence. It had been embedded so deeply into the dog’s leg and cut straight through the muscle. It had to have been putting Diablo in serious pain the entire time it in was there. It was no wonder he’d been acting so viciously.

His owner had wanted to euthanize him, but the whole time he’d just been acting out because he was in pain. Scott thought that was a perfect metaphor for the relationship between hunters and werewolves. Hunters want to put the werewolves down because they think they’re dangerous. The majority of the time, werewolves are only dangerous because they can’t control it. Obviously, as they have well learned over the past year, that’s not always the case. Sometimes werewolves are evil for no reason other than that they have the capacity to be so, usually fed by some desire for revenge, or retribution, or from just being a bored sociopath.

Stiles thought he was kind of a genius for seeing it that way. Usually he thought Scott was an idiot. So he felt pretty awesome for the big fat puppy grin he received when he told Scott that he was clever.

Scott was positively preening at the compliment. He stretched his arms out, smugly, bumping his elbow on a stack of books and knocking them over. Stiles laughed as he scrambled to catch them, using his werewolf reflexes to pluck them all out of the air and stacking them back up one handed. Once they were resituated, he took a second look at them, frowning when he realized what they were.

“Has Lydia been here?” he asked, gesturing with his crust to the stack of college level textbooks he’d just made.

Stiles shook his head. “Yes,” he said. Wait, what? “I mean, yes.” Lydia most definitely had not been there. Those books weren’t even hers. He frowned at himself. “Lydia was here not that long ago. She left those behind.” What? Stiles shook his head in disbelief. That was not what he'd meant to say. Why were the wrong words coming out?

“Dude,” Scott scoffed. “You could have just said no.” Scott heard the lie in his heart, nearly as clearly as he'd heard it in his voice.

“Scott!” Stiles started, a little panicked. “There's nothing wrong.” There absolutely was something wrong! “Everything's fine.” _What the hell_?

“Stiles? Are you okay? Your heartbeat is going crazy.”

“Of course I'm fine.” Stiles looked deranged. He had a terrified smile on his face, but his voice was completely calm, if not a little shaky. “There's nothing strange going on at all. Nothing that I say is a lie. I'm just telling the truth, because everything is perfectly okay.” What the fuck? Was today opposite day or something? This made no goddamned sense.

“You're being weird, Stiles.” Scott squinted at him curiously. Stiles nodded his head dramatically.

“No I'm not.” Oh dear Lord. What the hell was going on with him? There was a direct misfire going on between his brain and his mouth.

“Uh, you kind of are.” Scott tilted his head slightly to the side as he gave his strange friend an inquisitive look. It kind of made him look like a confused puppy, and Stiles went to say as much.

“You should keep doing that. You look like a cat.” Gah!

“What?” Scott laughed at him.

A dog! “A cat.” A canine! “A feline.” Puppy! “A full grown cat.” What the fuck!?

“You’re so…” Scott trailed off. He couldn’t make heads or tails of Stiles’ strange behavior. His heart kept pounding all over the place and he kind of looked like he was 3 steps away from a hernia. “Are you okay?” he asked again.

Stiles swung his head back and forth, sharply. “Yes! I’m perfectly fine!” He let out a strangled groan.

“Is this about Griffin?” Scott prodded.

No, but Stiles was starting to think it might be about _Aunt Dee_. “Yes, of course it is.” Ugh!

“Are you guys still fighting?” Scott asked carefully. He could hear that Stiles was lying with every word, but if he didn’t want to tell him, he guessed that was his right.

“Yes. We are still fighting. In fact, he won’t even talk to me.”

“Why are you lying?” Scott was more confused than ever. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, but you don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying. I’m a great liar. You wouldn’t be able to tell if I was lying.”

“Dude, that’s the biggest lie I’ve heard all week, and I’m pretty sure Coach was trying to convince us he was on the 2004 Olympic Swim team on Monday.”

“I’m really not lying! I wouldn’t lie about this if you paid me!”

“Then you’re about to go into cardiac arrest, because your heartbeat is all over the place.”

“I’m not in the least bit surprised that you know that word.” Stiles flailed about in frustration for a moment before collapsing on his bed in a heap. “I’m okay,” he called out, voice muffled from landing face down in his sheets.

Scott shook his head and sighed with just a hint of exasperated laughter in his voice. “Whatever you say, man. I’m gonna go. Gimme a call later when you’re not acting so weird?” Stiles’ only response was a loud whimper that tapered off into a frantic screech. “Uh, thanks for the pizza.” He patted Stiles on the back before heading out of the room then downstairs.

Stiles waited until he heard Scott’s dirtbike drive down the street before he sat up and screamed at the top of his lungs. “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME?!?”

“Plenty!” the Sheriff hollered back up the stairs.

“Haha! Very funny, Dad!” Stiles shouted back.

“You started it!”

Stiles rolled his eyes at his Dad, then rolled off his bed and flopped to the floor. Okay, this definitely had to be Aunt Dee’s doing. Every word out of his mouth that day was untrue.

Wait, no. He’d been talking to Melissa and John all afternoon and he wasn’t lying. At least not any more than usual. He definitely had full control over the words that were coming out of his mouth earlier. So how come he was lying now?

That does it.

He leapt up off the floor and stormed out of his room, snatching his key off the desk. He was going to go see Aunt Dee and figure out what the hell she did to him with her janky potion.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles figures out what Aunt Dee did to him.
> 
> I hope you guys brought your nose plugs, cause for this chapter, Maddie just made up a whole bunch of BULLSHIT!

Chapter break

“What the hell did you do to me!?!” Stiles screamed at Aunt Dee as soon as the wall opened. He heard her chuckling evilly in the darkness as he stumbled down the stairs. “Ow, fucking…” he muttered when he twisted his foot a little on the last step and had to clutch the railing to keep from seriously injuring himself. “What did you do, woman?”

“Do I need to poke you in the eye again?” Aunt Dee threatened with a smile, waggling a finger at him after lighting the candles.

Stiles rolled said eyes then flailed his arms a bit in frustration at her. “How come I keep saying weird shit to everyone? It was that stupid potion, wasn’t it? It was! What did it do? What did you do? What did that potion do to me? Is it going to kill me? _What_ _’d you do_?” His voice was growing more and more frantic with every syllable until the end when it was straight up shrill. Aunt Dee just laughed at him more, throwing her head back and clapping in mirth. “This isn’t funny!” he practically shrieked.

She raised her thumb and her forefinger with just a small space between them, squinting the one eye in their direction for emphasis. “It’s a little funny,” she told him, still smiling.

“You’re _evil_!”

She nodded at him without much argument, then shut the book in front of her and slid it so that the edge lined up exactly with the edge of the table. “Remember that little metaphor I told you about throwing kids into the deep end of the pool?”

Stiles thought about it. Of course he remembered the metaphor, it was one of the stranger things she’d told him yesterday. He had no idea what she was talking about at the time. As he contemplated it, he came to the sudden realization of what was going on. “You put a spell on me so that I could only tell lies to werewolves?” It came out as more a statement of fact than a question.

“Yup.”

“Well take it off! I suck at telling lies! Ask my Dad! I can’t lie to a werewolf!”

“That’s the point my dear,” Aunt Dee explained patiently, still just on the edge of laughing at him. “Of course you aren’t good at it now. That’s what the spell is for. To force you to practice.”

“But!” Stiles spluttered indignantly. “I can’t just lie to everyone! They’ll get pissed and stop talking to me!”

“Then you’d better not let them find out you’re lying.”

Stiles screeched at her, flailing more and she started chuckling again. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Well, think about it. How do werewolves tell when you’re lying?”

“They can hear a skip in your heartbeat,” he answered automatically, having long known that.

“Yes, and?”

“And?” Stiles didn’t know what else she was looking for. She tapped her nose patiently, giving him a hint. “They can smell it?” She nodded at him.

“They can’t smell the lie exactly,” she explained. “What they smell is the sudden spike in adrenaline that comes with telling one.” Stiles nodded understanding.

“How am I supposed to control that? Or my heartbeat for that matter?”

“The smell is a lot easier to control than the heartbeat, but both are very possible.”

“Okay,” Stiles sighed, figuring he wasn’t getting out of this. Besides it’s not like being able to get away with a lie every now and then wouldn’t prove advantageous if he decided to get up to shenanigans. He hadn’t been shenaniganing in a while. He moved to the table and sat across from Aunt Dee, who was still smirking at him like the devil she was. “So how do I do it?”

“Well, the smell is easy. They’re smelling a spike in adrenaline. So just don’t let the adrenaline spike. Don’t flounder around to come up with a lie. You can’t let the lie be a shock to you. Just say what you want to say and let that be the end of it.”

“Yeah, but that’s so much easier said than done.” Stiles thought of all the times he’d been caught lying. Okay that was a lot so maybe not _all_ the times, but the most recent few. “I don’t think there’s a way for me to do that.”

“Of course there is. Practice. That’s what this spell is for. By the time the spell wears off, or I remove it, you should have told so many lies that you no longer bother to listen to what comes out of your mouth.” Stiles scoffed at her. He pretty much does that now. He doesn’t listen to the words until he’s said them then he tries to deal with the consequences of what he’d said. In fact that was kind of how he’d gotten to know Griffin. “By the end of this, the adrenaline spike should have sorted itself out on its own.”

“So then what about the heartbeat?”

“That is much more difficult. Telling an outright lie without an uptick is the most difficult, so the key is avoiding it whenever possible. Essentially lying without lying.”

“Like a lie of omission?”

“Yes that’s one of the ways. There are three main ways to avoid the uptick. The first, is to just say whatever comes out of your mouth without giving yourself a chance to think about whether it’s a lie or not. It works best in situations where a person isn’t looking for a specific answer, they just want an answer to satisfy their question. That’s the most dangerous of all the ways because it’s easy to think you’re saying whatever comes to mind, when really you actually are thinking about and there goes the uptick. There’s also the possibility that what you say will come out completely stilted and sounding more incriminating than an uptick on its own.”

“There’s also the possibility that what comes out may actually be the truth,” Stiles supplied. He had experience with that.

“Yes. That method is the kind of thing that comes much easier when you’ve got a good bit of lying under your belt.” Stiles opened his mouth to state that he’d been lying plenty his whole life but as soon as he got a syllable out, Aunt Dee corrected herself. “Or shall I say, a good bit of lying successfully. The next method is misdirection. Give them a bone and let them draw their own conclusions. It can also be answering a question with a question. This works best when a person _is_ looking for a specific answer. You simply say what they need to hear so that they come to the conclusion they’re looking for without you actually giving a concise response.”

Stiles squinted a little as he thought about it. “Give me an example,” he asked.

Aunt Dee put a finger on her chin as she thought one up. “Say you come into the kitchen and see that there are no more bananas. So you ask me if I ate the last one. Instead of saying yes or no, I’d maybe shrug and say ‘Griffin was in here earlier. He’s always eating bananas.’ If you thought about it later, you would probably remember it as me telling you he ate it.”

Stiles nodded, understanding. That’s the kind of thing he’s done before. Historically it hasn’t always worked for him, but he can grasp the concept.

“The third method is a lie of omission. Those work best when someone is looking for information or details. That’s pretty self-explanatory, right?”

Stiles agreed. “Okay, but what if none of those methods work?”

“That’s when you have to just outright lie. Tiny lies are the easiest to get away with, so keep your response as brief as possible. Bring it down to a single word if you can. Keep your breathing even, don’t panic. Let the lie come out with confidence. Do whatever you can to know ahead of time if you’re going to have to tell this kind of lie. Give yourself a chance to contemplate it. If you have the time, build an entire backstory behind it in your head. Fill in every detail. Make it so thorough and believable that you start to convince yourself. Then say your lie.”

“Wait, you said to make it brief, but you said to build a story around it-”

“The story is more for your own benefit. You don’t have an uptick in your heart when you’re telling a fairy tale, but you know none of it is true. It’s because you’re not lying, you’re telling a story. So when you have this whole backstory built up in your head, delivering the lie is merely continuing the preexisting story.”

“Makes sense.”

“Sometimes, this isn’t going to work. You’ll find yourself in a position where a short answer isn’t what’s being looked for. In those cases, it’s not the best idea to tell a premeditated or rehearsed story. Of course the situation itself will dictate whether or not that’s the case. When it is, you have to tell the truth.”

“But-”

“Make it like a truth sandwich. Tell as much truth as you can, then when you get to that one detail, that’s where you tell your lie, then follow it with more truth. Keep the lie as small as possible. It’s easy to get caught up and confused in a big lie. That’s why you may find yourself wanting to avoid those as much as possible.”

“Okay, this is all good in theory.” Stiles rubbed a hand through his hair pensively. “But how do I actually _do_ it? I’ve probably done all of these things at some point, but I still get caught. And this is with people like my Dad or Melissa McCall. Humans. So how do I pull the wool over a werewolf?” He tried not to think of Derek in an ugly knit sweater. He failed.

“You just have to be confident in your lies. Be as calculating as possible. When you tell a lie, you can’t look or sound like you’re lying. Find out what all your ticks and tells are and put a stop to them. Then make sure you don’t replace them, as often happens. Keep yourself calm and try not to force an emotional response. That often reveals a lie faster than any tell. Not everyone is Oscar-worthy. And even for those who are, not every moment calls for Oscar-worthy. Just go with your natural emotions.”

“What if it’s a moment where one might expect me to cry, but instead I just want to laugh?”

“Just go with it. It may sound weird but even in that situation the laughter would be preferred. It’s a genuine response and can easily be mistaken for hysteria. Especially for you. I can’t imagine there being a whole lot of situations where you’d be expected to actually cry. So manic laughter, while unexpected, wouldn’t be entirely out of character or surprising.”

He squinted at her questioningly.

“You have to be confident in yourself Stiles,” Aunt Dee instructed him. “It’s like magic. If you lack confidence, it’s going to show in your voice and your body language. It’s going to cause an uptick in your heart. No one will believe you if you don’t believe you.”

“Okay, okay…” he conceded. “But what about these ridiculous lies I’ve been telling. Am I going to keep saying them?”

“Only if you keep trying to tell the truth. If you intentionally say a lie, the words you mean are what’s going to come out. But if you keep trying to tell the truth, the words will be corrected into basically the opposite of what you mean.”

He frowned. “Sucks.” Aunt Dee nodded, but the smile on her face implied she found it rather hilarious. “When does it wear off?”

“After you’ve managed forty-eight hours without being caught telling a lie to a werewolf. And before you go thinking you’ll just hide for two days, I should inform you that it only counts if you’ve been actively lying to them during those two days.” He hadn’t immediately planned to do that. Nope. She wasn’t dashing his hopes. God dammit. None of that.

He heaved a dramatic sigh before sliding away from the table, reluctantly accepting his fate. Aunt Dee bid a cheerful goodbye and he returned it glumly, heading up the stairs.

Stiles hoped beyond hope that Griffin wouldn’t meet him outside the door. He really didn’t want to be stuck lying to him. He managed to avoid it on his way in because Griffin had been in the backyard doing who knows what, presumably yard work. By the time he’d come around the house to say hi, Stiles had just barreled through the unlocked front door and straight to Aunt Dee’s closet.

This time he wasn’t so lucky. Griffin was in the kitchen when he came out and immediately came over to greet him. Oh joy. He had been doing yard work. He was shirtless and glistening sweat with dirt streaked across his body and strands of his hair stuck to his face. He kind of looked like he’d been back there digging holes to bury his favorite bone. Stiles almost opened his mouth to say as much, but clapped it shut out of fear of how it might be contorted and twisted when it came out.

Griffin smirked at him being flustered, thinking it was his usual spazzy-self reacting to seeing him shirtless and sweaty. Which, to be fair it definitely was by at least 37%.

“You done talking to Aunt Dee?” Griffin asked. “It must have been important, you were in such a rush to get in there.”

Stiles frowned a little, trying to think of a way to avoid answering a direct question but drawing a blank. “No, not really,” he responded. He supposed that was vague enough, but his heart definitely had an uptick. He was pretty fucked. Griffin squinted his eyes at him suspiciously, but blew it off.

“So I was out doing yard work,” he started, devious little smirk spreading across his face. “And now I’m all dirty.” He gestured to his chest with a dirt-stained hand.

“I didn’t notice,” Stiles smiled at him, taking a long look at those abs. Oh those abs. So pretty. He kind of wanted to lick them clean like a real wolf. He wondered if Griffin would appreciate that. Exactly how strong were his wolf instincts? Or was that more of a cat thing? Stiles didn’t care, he could do his laundry on those abs and that was all that mattered. He wondered if Griffin would let him eat ice cream off of them. Probably, if he asked nice enough. God! That shoulder to waist ratio! It’s doing all _kinds_ of things… Wait a second, what were they talking about? He blinked himself back to the present and drug his eyes to Griffin’s face, seeing that he was still smirking down at him like a predator.

Thinking that Stiles was just flirting, Griffin continued. “Since you’re here and you’re done in the basement, I was thinking maybe we could go upstairs and you could help me get clean.” He reached a hand out to tug Stiles closer by the sleeve.

Stiles would like that very much. He thought about it and realized, actually he would not like that at all. He could just imagine all the horrible things he would say while having sex in the shower. “Um, I would like that very much.” Fuck! He blanched at the thought that he may have just fucked himself over. Not in the “fun in the shower” kind of way either.

Noticing the lie and how uncomfortable Stiles suddenly became, Griffin tried to placate him. “We don’t have to.” He didn’t want him to feel pressured. “I can just go get washed up and we can do something else.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that. He kind of did want to spend time with Griffin, but not when every word out of his mouth was a lie. He thought the best thing to do would be to go home. Obviously he couldn’t say that otherwise he’d be there all night.

“Um, I…” he stammered. “It’s uh, okay!” It was _not_ okay! He raised his hands up in a surrendering gesture and backed toward the door, fumbling over a series of broken phrases as he tried to come up with an excuse to get out of there. He knew his heart must have been thundering all over the place and Griffin was looking concerned for him. He managed to force something about his Dad, food, late, and sunset that didn’t even resemble an actual sentence before he finally just gave up. He rushed back over to Griffin and gave him a kiss (avoiding touching his abs lest he be there all day) and told him goodbye before fleeing out the door like a madman.

Very confused, Griffin followed him out onto the porch, shouting that he should text him as he climbed into the car. Stiles made a screeching sound that was supposed to be an affirmative before turning the jeep on and speeding away. Griffin whipped around and headed straight for Aunt Dee’s closet, shouting on the way there.

“What the _hell_ did you do to my boyfriend?” He could hear her cackling through the wall.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles practices lying.
> 
> It's a little shocking how much truth can come out when all you can tell are lies.

Chapter Break (Sunday)

The following week was very eventful to say the least.

That first day, he tried to avoid speaking to any werewolves outside of a text message. That morning, he skyped with Scott, hoping the spell wouldn’t take effect since he wasn’t in his presence. That did not pan out. He got so frustrated at his lying that he flipped out and slammed his laptop shut mid word and began screeching at the wall. They had all planned to hang out together and he figured he might as well give it a try. Even if he was being weird the whole time, he ought to start practicing. The sooner he got the hang of it, the sooner he could tell the truth again.

After a while he discovered that if he completely ignored the werewolves and only spoke directly to Kira or Malia (who could tell but didn’t know any better, and thank god no one taught her _that_ yet) that he had better control over his lies. Kira, though sweet, was often as much of a space cadet as he was and was the most receptive to the bullshit coming out of his mouth. He employed Aunt Dee’s tactics of lying without lying and by the end of the day he noticed the looks Scott, Isaac, and Griffin were giving him only came when he openly ignored them and not every time he opened his mouth anymore.

Meanwhile, Malia did fantastically on her trip to the mall. It only took one warning for her to keep her comments of how badly it stunk to herself, and she didn’t coyote-out on anybody. Lydia bought her more clothes and—with the use of what surely must have been some type of voodoo magic—had even managed to get her to wear a pair of boots with a small heel.

The coffee shop didn’t work out as well. They had decided to temporarily give up on improving Malia’s table manners lessons, so Stiles’ wasn’t entirely sure why anyone thought that would work out. But it looked like only 1 barista was traumatized as opposed to the whole staff. So they decided to cut their losses and quit while they were still ahead.

At school on Monday, Stiles added Danny to the shortlist of people he could talk to while ignoring everyone else. He figured Danny was the next safest because he never really listened to anything Stiles had to say anyways (much like the Sheriff). It worked out well and he seemed to be getting better at hiding is little evasions of the truth. By the end of their lunch period he had managed to add Lydia as well without losing any momentum. That meant a lot because she was whip smart and would have called him out on his bullshit without regret. In the end, the only person giving him funny looks when he spoke anymore was Griffin.

At lacrosse practice, he told Coach an outright lie just to see how it would go over. It did not do so well and he found himself doing suicide runs until he contemplated actual suicide. (Which, considering it was Stiles, was not really that long.) Ultimately he did not commit suicide, knowing that it would only bring Finstock joy if he did.

Tuesday, he finally started talking to the werewolves. Initially it was only Isaac. He thought that might be a bit dangerous because Isaac would have used anything he said against him and would have been happy about it too. Simultaneously, he was also the safest choice because he felt like he knew Scott too well to be able to just pull the wool over his eyes without getting questioned, and he wanted to avoid lying _to_ Griffin at all costs. In the end it hardly mattered because Isaac still wouldn’t outright speak to him.

Stiles did manage to lie outright to Finstock in econ about his homework and it was accepted without a second thought. He tried it with Mr. Yukimura as well with a similar result. He was gaining enough confidence that he’d been able to curb all his outward ticks and giveaways. His heartbeat was still stuttering, if the looks Scott gave him meant anything. However that was his only tell anymore and the humans couldn’t detect it.

At lunch, Scott cornered him and tried to ask him about all the lying. Stiles wanted so desperately to tell him the truth about the spell, but for the obvious reasons couldn’t. Instead of answering, he asked Scott when Allison’s birthday was. Stiles knew that it was on Thursday and knew that Scott had been stressing about it. He felt like the worst kind of person for using that to manipulate his best friend. The tactic worked and the two shared a long bro hug before heading to their table and promptly forgetting any talk of lies or heartbeats. Stiles had to fight the urge to find a bucket and a sponge to clean up all the slime he was leaving behind.

He got into an argument with Griffin after lacrosse practice. Griffin insisted he was avoiding him. Which he was. Of course, Stiles only argued the opposite which led into a shouting match until Stiles implied that he was stressed about his Dad’s injury and just needed space to deal with it on his own. That was nowhere near the case. His Dad was healing up just fine and had no problem putting Stiles in his place when he was being an asshole that morning. There went more of that slime. Maybe he should just glue soapy sponges to his shoes.

After that, he was able to lie without a hitch as long as he avoided telling a point blank falsehood. When he thought about it, it was a little strange how it all flowed so easily from him. He supposed it had to do with the fact that he knew a lie was coming no matter what he said. He might as well make it believable. Due to his rampant sarcasm, he didn’t even sound like anyone but himself as he did it either. It was just like Aunt Dee said. The more he did it, the easier it became. The lie just happened organically and to a certain extent he didn’t even formulate the thought in his head.

Telling an outright “the sky is red” fallacy was a little harder. He did practice when he was only around humans as much as was possible. That helped him a lot. He tried to avoid it with the werewolves for fear of the uptick. So it took until Griffin snuck into his bedroom late Wednesday night before he realized exactly how good he’d gotten at it in a course of 4 meager days.

He wasn't exactly proud of himself when he finally did lie without an uptick.

They were fighting again. Griffin was upset about Stiles avoiding him so much. The outright ignoring him was infuriating and he wanted to get to the bottom of it. He was becoming so distant lately and lying all the time about everything—all this after two weeks of not speaking to Griffin, then another week of just generally being an asshat to him—and Griffin was becoming genuinely worried about the state of their relationship. Whatever Stiles was going through, Griffin wanted to help him through it. But if Stiles was literally running away from him, Griffin wasn’t exactly sure what he was chasing him for.

Stiles was a little shocked with himself when he felt the lack of reaction to the idea. He wasn’t freezing up or anything. It sounded like a legitimate response to the situation and Stiles didn’t even find himself worried about it. Some type of concern was definitely called for, but Stiles just couldn’t muster any up.

Honestly, he felt that in regards to their relationship, he didn’t really have any control and he kind of fucking hated it. He shouldn’t have been trying to control Griffin in the first place, and by now definitely knew that he _couldn_ _’t_. However Stiles liked being in control. In some ways, he felt like he _needed_ it to function after what happened with the nogitsune. After relinquishing all control of his faculties and watching the world around him spiraling into chaos with no power to stop it. He felt that he needed it like air.

In many areas of his life, he honestly didn’t have any say and there was nothing he could do about it. He knew that. He felt like his relationship was the one place that he always had final say on everything. Not everything had to be his idea, but he was always left with the option to go through with it or not. Griffin had always been very open about making sure he knew that. However, knowing what Stiles knew about Griffin, he was starting not to trust his choices as being his own anymore. It’s not like he was being outright controlling. Not at all. It was way more subtle than that. If Derek hadn’t pointed it out that day at the Nemeton, Stiles never would have noticed.

Often times, when Griffin gave Stiles an option of something, the decision had been made before the choice was even offered. Stiles was merely left with the task of picking up the pieces and reciting his lines. That wasn’t the case in every single situation. It happened often enough that—now he knows how to see it—it drives Stiles up the freaking wall. The only thing worse than no longer having control is realizing that you never had it in the first place.

Regardless of how he felt about Griffin emotionally, he knew he wouldn’t mourn the loss of that dynamic that bled into every part of their relationship, from big decisions to the completely mundane. That being said, he didn’t think he actually wanted to lose Griffin. So his complete non-response to the idea was a little terrifying in itself.

With the spell on him, he said none of this and just disagreed with everything Griffin said, which was just pissing Griffin off. Griffin started asking more direct questions and Stiles steered the argument in circles to avoid answering them. Finally he’d gotten them so convoluted and turned around that Griffin was pissed, confused, and feeling absolutely out of control himself.

As an alpha _and a Panselinos_ , not being in control of a situation was akin to eating one’s own liver straight from the body. So Griffin snapped the conversation in a direction where he held the reins.

It only took 4 words.

"Do you love me?"

"What?" Stiles asked, incredulous. The question caught him way the fuck off guard.

"Do you love me?" Griffin repeated, continuing. "Because I tell you I love you all the time, but you've never told me once. I think you've told me you _hate_ me at least half a dozen times-"

"Do you hone-"

"I know you don't really hate me. Sometimes you're just a sarcastic little shit. But you can say that, yet I've never heard a word to the contrary. I never make a big deal of it because I don't want you to say it if you don't mean it. I don't want to pressure you into saying it, because then it's meaningless. But at this point, if you don't love me, then I don't know why we're even together anymore. So tell me, Stiles. Do you love me?"

“Yes! I love you! Of course I do!”

And there it was.

There was no tick in his heart at all so Stiles wasn’t entirely sure if he was lying anymore. A part of him desperately wished that he wasn’t, just so he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of telling Griffin the one thing that would hurt the most to discover was untrue. But as he contemplated it more, he knew he wasn’t telling the truth.

He never really thought that hard about it before. Obviously he cared about him. In the beginning he was absolutely infatuated with him. _In the beginning_. Everything was different now. As to whether he was actually in love? Like the real—you mean everything to me, I could see myself with you forever, we should have babies one day, even when I can’t stand looking at your face I still hope you had a good day—kind of love? It was always easier to just not have to think about it and let the relationship be what it was. Fun. Simple. Easy.

Now that he was examining it and put some genuine thought into it, he knew that he did not love Griffin. He never did.

He took a deep, calming breath and said the words that came naturally. "Of course I love you. Without a doubt, I want this relationship to work. It means everything to me."

His heart beat strong and steady the whole way through. He didn’t need to feel his own pulse to know. He could tell by the fact it wasn’t pounding in his ears. It was confirmed when Griffin approached him, wrapping his hands around his head and kissing him on the forehead.

“Then why?” he asked quietly. “Why are you running from me and lying about everything? Are you keeping something from me?”

“No.”

“Then talk to me.” He’d said it so gently, but it wasn’t a request or a suggestion, and it wasn’t him pleading, the way it sounded. Griffin had gripped his chin, tilting is head back so that Stiles was looking him directly in the eye and he couldn’t look away. It was a cleverly veiled command to speak.

Stiles snatched his head from his grip and instead buried his face in Griffin’s chest. “Tomorrow is Allison’s birthday.” He’d already used that excuse with Scott, and it was the truth anyways. Not the truth Griffin was looking for, so it still counted as a lie, but it was misleading enough to answer the question without answering it. The tactics Aunt Dee had given him were becoming easier and easier. He didn’t know if he should be proud, or ashamed of himself.

“Oh.” Griffin deflated as all the fire zapped right out of him. He wrapped his arms around Stiles and squeezed him tight. He knew who Allison was and how Stiles felt about what happened to her. To him, that explained everything. He sighed into Stiles’ hair before dipping him back a little so he could place a gentle kiss on his lips. “You know you can talk to me about her, right?” His voice was so soft and gentle. A complete contrast to the way they had been nearly shouting at each other mere minutes before. “I didn’t know her like the others did, but maybe talking to someone who can be objective about it would be better than someone who has their own emotional baggage to unload.”

Talking about Allison was the last fucking thing Stiles had intended to do.

“Yeah,” he nodded quietly. “Maybe.” He shook his head gently. "Just not... Not..." He didn't finish his sentence. He didn't need to, to get the point across. Griffin nodded, understanding.

"It's okay," he said into his hair. "When you're ready. You don't have to be afraid to be vulnerable around me, okay? I'm here for you, and I want you to talk to me. We can't keep handling stuff this way. We aren't going to survive it if this is how we approach our problems. And I really want to survive it with you."

Griffin reached a hand up to hold Stiles' face, brushing his thumb back and forth across his cheek. His grip was strong and supportive, and the movement was loving, meant to soothe him. Stiles felt like trash.

"Me too."

He should be ashamed. Definitely ashamed.

Stiles didn't want to talk anymore. He could almost feel his resolve slipping and he wouldn’t be able to get away with anymore lies. He didn't want to have to start the whole process all over again. He didn't know if he could take lying to Griffin even more. Instead, he stood up on his toes, kissing him and burying a fist in his shirt. He tugged him over to the bed and led him downward so they both crashed onto it, still wrapped up in each other.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Dee's Lying Potion wears off.
> 
> This chapter is really long. Though not as long as the next one. The next one's a doozy.

Chapter Break (Thursday)

When Stiles woke up, Griffin was still in his bed, hogging all the covers. He almost woke him up just to snatch them back, but he knew better. Griffin was positively Satanic in the mornings. He was so far from a morning person that actual morning people shrivel and wilt when in his presence before 7:30 am.

Instead, he went about his usual morning routine. Sometime when he was in the shower, Griffin woke up. When Stiles came back in the room, he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden visual of Griffin sitting cross legged in the center of his bed, glaring daggers at him.

“Don’t do that!” Stiles scolded, rushing over to throw the blanket over his head. “You keep glaring at me like that and you’re going to turn me to stone!”

Instead of saying something that made actual sense, Griffin responded by saying in a hoarse, sleep thickened voice, “Cockatrice’s in North America don’t live outside of the bayou or the everglades, and I’m too pretty to be a gorgon.” He tugged the blanket off his head slowly, messing up his hair even more than it was before. When the blanket finally fell off his head and over his shoulders, he was still glaring at Stiles.

Stiles flapped his arms at him nervously, not liking being under that intense stare. “Get up!” He urged. “We have to get to school. You need to get ready.”

“No.”

That was it. That was all he said. Nothing else. No explanation. Just a simple, flat no.

Stiles shrugged and continued dressing, heading downstairs to make breakfast for his Dad. It wasn’t until he’d made 3 omelets and a freshly showered and dressed (though still pissed looking) Griffin joined him at the table that he realized that he hadn’t told a lie all morning.

That meant the spell had worn off.

Thank the LORD!

He sighed so hard at the realization that he actually melted into the chair a little. Griffin eyeballed him a bit, but didn’t say anything, grumpily tucking into his omelet instead.

They finished up their breakfast just in time for the Sheriff to come in for his own. It took the omelet, 3 cups of coffee, and time (precious time that they didn’t really have) in order for Griffin to wake up enough to actually use manners instead of glaring people into oblivion. They scrambled through goodbyes and rushed to school in the Durango.

With the spell off, Stiles approached the day in a ridiculously good mood that lingered the whole day, despite the very powerful effort of many of his teachers. He was downright cheery, knowing that his words were all completely his own. He may have even been a bit more cheerful to throw in a lie here or there just because he could and no one would even bother to question it. Nothing important. Just little white lies, or small evasions of the truth regarding things that didn’t really matter anyways.

He was positively jovial all the way up until Griffin dropped him back off at home that afternoon. Seeing that he was in a good mood, the Sheriff decided to take advantage of that right away.

 “Stiles, we need to go to the grocery store.” John barely even waited for his son to make it all the way in the house before he brought it up. He’d been on leave for a long time and was going stir crazy being inside so much.

“Um… okay?” Stiles dropped his things by the door and went to sit by his dad on the couch. John stood up immediately, clutching his collarbone.

“No, we need to go right now.”

“I just got here…”

“Too bad. I’m gonna chew my own arm off if I have to look at these walls any longer.” Stiles chuckled at his Dad’s misery. He chose to ignore the fact that he wasn’t chained to anything, so gnawing off his arm wouldn’t really serve much of a purpose.

“Why didn’t you just have Melissa take you?”

“Because!” her voice floated down the stairs, making Stiles jump. “As much as Melissa loves hanging out with the Sheriff during the day, she still has a job at night. Which requires sleep at some point. John here, is nice enough to allow me to take naps while I’m here.” She walked down the stairs as she was talking and came into the living room. “Was Lydia here?” she asked suddenly. “I could see a huge stack of college books on your desk.” Stiles just shrugged.

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead. “I didn’t see your car outside.”

“That’s because Isaac dropped me off. He should be here to pick me up soon."

"Then just have him take you both to the grocery store." Stiles offered.

“Nope,” John shook his head. “You’re not getting out of it. Let’s go.” He shrugged on his jacket impatiently.

Though he didn’t say it out loud, Stiles couldn’t help but notice that in John’s rush to get out of the house, he would be leaving Melissa there all by herself. Which he would have no problem with. And she would be leaving soon. Which would require her to lock the door. John, as protective as he is, would never leave the house without locking the deadbolt. He’d nagged Stiles about it enough for him to know that fact very well. (That didn’t stop him from doing it, but hey. Sometimes he’s just in a rush, okay.) So in order to lock the door, she would need a key.

“House keys are a funny thing…” Stiles muttered cryptically, looking down at the key ring in his hand. It had a lot of keys on it. Of course it did. “In certain situations they’re pretty meaningless. They just open doors. But in others, they signify something more important.”

“What are you talking about?” John asked. Stiles sighed at him, smirking.

“Nothing at all, Daddio.”

“Can we go now?”

“Did you make a list?”

John groaned impatiently, ever the petulant child. Melissa snickered at him because he actually seemed a lot like Stiles in that moment.

“I’ll go make a list,” Stiles offered, heading to the kitchen. He pretended not to notice the way Melissa reached a hand out to John to lead him back to the couch.

Stiles got busy making a list right away and, wow did they really need to go shopping. He was halfway through with the pantry when he got a call from Scott. “What’s up, Scotty?” he asked into the receiver, thanking his lucky stars again that the stupid lying spell had worn off.

On the other side, Scott was meandering through his house, checking the rooms. He was all alone. “Hey, is Mom still over there?”

“Yup. She’s sitting on the couch with Dad, waiting for Isaac.”

“Oh. I just figured she’d be back by now.”

“Did you want something? I can give her the phone.”

“Nah, it wasn’t important. I was just looking for her and she didn’t answer her phone.”

“She probably left it upstairs. She was sleeping in Dad’s bed.”

“Was your Dad in the bed?” Scott raised his eyebrows hopefully.

“No. He was downstairs, unfortunately.” Scott sighed at him through the receiver while he scribbled ingredients to a vegetarian casserole. “Don’t worry. They’ll get with the program soon. Melissa has a key to my house. So that’s progress.”

“Oh man! The sheriff doesn’t have a key to mine!” Scott thought about it while he pulled some milk out of his fridge and drank it straight from the carton. “Oh, why don’t you give him yours?”

“Yeah, right,” Stiles scoffed. “He’s not getting my key. Nice try, though. Besides, it would only mean something if _she_ gave it to him.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Whatever. I stick by my time frame that they’ll be dating by July. A wedding next spring. Then we’ll live happily ever after, bros five-ever.”

“I dunno. Mom can be a little slow on the uptake sometimes. It’s been a long time for her, and we know her last attempt at dating went _so well_.”

“It’s been a long time for Dad too. I’m pretty sure his last attempt at dating ended with him getting married and having a snot-nosed kid. So he’s just as rusty, if not more.” Scott snickered back at him, almost identical to the way Melissa had snickered at John earlier.

“Well, let’s hope he keeps up his track record. Minus the snot-nosed kid.”

“Amen to that, brother. Anyways, I gotta take Dad to the grocery store before he eats his arm out of boredom.”

“We can’t have that,” Scott chuckled. “See ya later.”

“Peace.”

Stiles finished his list quickly, just in time for Isaac to come to the door for Melissa. He glanced around through the entrance, but didn’t come in. He was frowning. When Stiles saw him, he was suddenly struck with the realization that Isaac would be a part of the McCall package deal. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He didn’t hate the idea or anything. Isaac could just be so difficult to understand or handle sometimes. That is, when he’s not being ridiculously annoying.

The thought slipped right away from him when he noticed how hesitant he was to come inside. He smiled at him amicably, teasing “Come on in. Stilinskis don’t bite.”

Isaac stepped inside slowly, still frowning, and lingered by the door. What was the kid’s problem? Melissa approached them, greeting Isaac with a smile. He forced a tight lipped smile in return and fled the house, hurrying back to the car. Melissa stopped to tell Stiles to buy something good. She was off on Friday, so she thought she could bring the boys over and the 5 of them could have dinner together.

“Sure,” Stiles agreed. A family dinner would be a great way to test out their new dynamic. “What did _you_ want to cook?”

“ _We_ -” Melissa smirked at him, not falling for it. “Can cook whatever you want. You decide.”

“I think we should order take out. There, it’s decided. Chinese it is.”

“Stiles…”

“Okay fine… We can get Thai.”

“Stiles,” Melissa smacked him lightly on the shoulder. The right one. “We are cooking together. You aren’t getting out of it.”

He sighed in defeat. “Okay fine. We can make grilled cheese sandwiches…” She threw him a glare. “Okay, okay. We can get fancy with it. Throw some ham in there.” She pointed a threatening finger at him, (which he only smiled at) and backed away to the car. When she got to the door, she shouted her goodbyes over her shoulder and got in.

John had followed her out, heading straight to their driveway. “Hurry up and get out here!” he called back impatiently.

“Can I drive the police cruiser?” Stiles asked optimistically. John’s only response was an exaggerated cackle.

Stiles drove them all the way out to Winston Grocery on the edge of town. He smiled to himself a little as he realized he’d parked in the same spot that Griffin had the last time he was there. They headed inside and commenced shopping. Shopping with his dad was always an experience. They would bicker the whole time as John tried to fill the cart with junk food and red meat. Stiles would remove it all, and replace it with low sodium and organic versions of the junk food, and more vegetables. Then he would pile all the junk food he liked on top. It always made grocery shopping… interesting. To say the least.

This time was a little different. For starters, as soon as they walked further into the store past the produce section, Stiles started to feel rather strangely. He got a bubbly, fluttery feeling in his chest. It was kind of like the feeling he got when he was really excited for something to happen, and he’d been waiting for it all day. Then, finally he gets to have it and it’s even 10 times more exciting then he’d thought it would be. It’s like he can feel the excitement rushing through his veins, spreading around his heart, and vibrating his diaphragm. It left a bit of a burning sensation at the top of his stomach and he could feel his heart racing.

He stopped walking and clutched his chest. His Dad asked if he was alright, and he didn’t know what to answer with. After a few moments, the feeling passed. He had no idea what had caused it, but he hoped it didn’t come back. He thought to himself he ought to make an appointment with a doctor. Or perhaps Deaton would be the better choice? He wasn’t sure. Maybe he should just ask Aunt Dee about it. It might have had something to do with that disgusting potion she gave him. He just hoped the thing wasn’t giving him a fucking heart attack or anything.

He told his Dad he was fine and kept going throughout the store. He kept much quieter than usual, and it was starting to concern John. He didn’t even argue much about the pork chops he kept tossing in the cart.

Stiles walked away from his Dad in search of ingredients for the meal he decided he’d cook with Melissa, when he got the feeling in his chest again. This time it was much stronger than before. He stopped and had to lean on one of the shelves in the pasta aisle to keep from keeling over. Suddenly, he heard a loud crashing sound from the aisle behind him. He stood upright and walked over to investigate, still clutching at his chest.

The aisle was a complete disaster zone. Hundreds of cans and jars in varying sizes were spread out and shattered on the floor. It was in complete disarray. Some of the jars survived the fall, but most of them broke upon impact, spilling all kinds of things on the floor. It looked as if everything had been tossed off the shelves and thrown to the ground. That’s so weird. He’d heard one big crash. Not a long string of multiple crashes in a row. It was as if everything had hit the ground at once. How could everything in the aisle be knocked over in a way that it all hit the ground at the same time, while leaving the shelves standing?

The longer he stood there, gazing at the mess, the more the fluttery feeling in his chest faded away, until finally it was gone again. People had been coming to investigate the crashing sound as well, and the Sheriff rolled up behind Stiles.

“I swear to God, Stiles,” he muttered in his son’s ear. “How the hell did you even do this?”

Stiles whipped around, insulted. “I didn’t do this!” he shouted. “I’m just an innocent bystander!”

“Innocent my ass! There’s nothing innocent about you,” John scoffed.

“You have a point,” Stiles conceded. “But I still didn’t do this.”

“Then what happened?”

“How should I know? I just heard a crash, and then… this.” He flailed his arms at the mess on the ground.

A brief, 4 toned jingle sounded overhead, then a voice could be heard on the PA system. “Can all employees not currently working registers, report to aisle fourteen for clean up? I repeat, can all employees not currently working registers, report to aisle fourteen for clean up? Thank you.” Stiles could tell that it was Aniyah. She sounded scared over the intercom. She wasn’t stuttering exactly, but her voice was shaking. He wondered what was wrong.

Stiles supposed that their shopping trip was over. They’d only had two more things left on their list and both of them were in aisle 14. So it would appear that they were fresh out. John led the way to the checkout lines. Today was a busy day and it was only early evening, so the lines were long. With a sigh, John picked the shortest looking one and prepared for the wait.

They were there for a while, the lines moving sluggishly, when Stiles realized that they’d forgotten something. He told John to stay in line while he went to get it. As he was walking away, the fluttering feeling started up in his chest again. He kept walking and it passed quickly, not coming on as strong as either of the times before. Yeah, he was definitely talking to Aunt Dee about this. There was something fucking wrong with him.

He continued to the front of the store to grab some Portobello mushrooms, taking his time to pick out the freshest ones since he knew the lines were long. He grabbed them and rushed back to the checkout stands. Wait.

His Dad wasn’t there. He wasn’t gone that long. He didn’t think. Well no, because he could see the lady in the long pink dress and the whiney 4 year old boy tugging on the cart. He’d left John standing only 2 people behind them. He reached into his pocket and called his Dad, asking him where he was. John answered the phone quickly, expecting the call. A new line had been opened up at check stand 8. That was where he went. Also, hurry up.

Stiles ended the call and headed over. As he got closer, the fluttery feeling started to build up again. Every step he took, it got stronger. Finally, he could see the start of check stand 8 and he could see his Dad unloading the cart. He stopped where he was. The feeling was stronger than ever and it was slightly scaring him. It didn’t hurt or anything. It was just making his heart thunder behind his rib cage and it felt like a giant hand was repeatedly gripping his diaphragm then letting it slip out of its fingers slowly.

John spotted him and told him to come on, asking what was wrong. Stiles took a few tentative steps forward, shaking his head at his dad to say nothing. It was stupid, really. Obviously something was wrong. He just didn’t want to say anything until they got into the car.

The feeling kept getting stronger as he stepped closer, but he kept going. He went to help his father finish unloading the cart, pointlessly trying to keep pretending like nothing was wrong. He settled the mushrooms down on the conveyor belt while his Dad unloaded the eggs and that’s when it hit him.

He looked up at the person behind the register and it was Aniyah. She was staring right back at him with a queasy look on her face, much similar to the one he knew he was sporting himself. He locked eyes with her and he just knew. She was a witch too. He didn’t know how he knew it, but it was like every fiber of his being was screaming it at him. She’s a witch. It was just fact. Non-arguable, indisputable fact. End of story. Judging by the look on her face, she was having an identical revelation about him.

John noticed the awkwardness of their exchange, but continued to unload the cart. Stiles didn’t help at all. Instead he stood staring at Aniyah while she stared back. It was a testament to how practiced she must have been at ringing things up, because she only had to tear her eyes away a few time as she weighed the vegetables. A couple of times, she just punched numbers in that were nowhere near accurate.

A man walked up to the register, smiling amicably at the Sheriff. It was Gregory Winston, Aniyah’s father. He greeted John warmly and acted as the courtesy clerk, bagging their groceries up so they wouldn’t have to. He chatted merrily with John as he paid for the groceries, reminding Aniyah to add the employee discount.

When all their groceries were bagged and in the cart, Gregory bid the both of them good day. When he looked at Stiles, he saw the way he was staring at Aniyah and frowned a little. Stiles didn’t notice anything else going on around him. John grabbed him by the sleeve and tried to tug him out of the way of the next people in line but he stood there.

He stepped out of his Dad’s grasp, approaching the register and blurting out. “Call me!”

“I don’t have your number,” Aniyah replied, not missing a beat. Stiles whipped out his phone.

“Give me yours. I’ll call you.” She recited it to him and he added it to his contacts.

“I get off at ten,” she informed him.

“I’ll call you at ten o’ one,” he promised. Gregory frowned impossibly harder, not liking this exchange at all.

John grabbed his son by the collar and jerked him out of the line, pulling him behind himself as he pushed the cart one handed. Stiles and Aniyah kept twisting and turning to look at each other as they were separated until Gregory spoke up.

“’Niyah!” he snapped. “Eyes front!” She obeyed, turning back to the next customer and Stiles finally turned around to walk to the car on his own.

As they loaded the back of the jeep, John rounded on his son. “What the hell was that about?”

“Dad!” Stiles was full of excitement. “She’s a -” he stopped as he saw the woman with the long pink dress and the 4 year old who was no longer whining approach the car next to them. She smiled at the Sheriff amicably before unloading her own cart. “She’s like me.” Stiles used the safer version, but John wasn’t following him.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“She’s like me,” he repeated. “You know how Isaac is like Scott and Derek? And like Griffin too?”

“Right.” Now the Sheriff was catching on.

“Well, Aniyah… she’s like me.”

“How can you tell?”

Stiles clutched his chest like he had been doing earlier. “I dunno. I just… I could feel it. She could too. I know she could.”

“Wow,” the Sheriff was surprised. He didn’t know what to make of the news. “Well, what are you going to do about it?” Stiles shrugged.

“I have no idea.”

“I guess you’d better figure it out before ten oh one.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles talks to the new witch and some questions finally get answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, this is a long fucking chapter. Most of my chapters are in the range of being 5 pages long. This one is 12.
> 
> It's a doozy.
> 
> But it's mostly dialogue. So it's not as long as 12 pages makes it sound.
> 
> Then the next one is pretty short, so that kinda makes up for it? I don't know.

Chapter Break

Stiles could hardly contain himself. He still had no idea what he was going to say or do about this new development with Aniyah. He just knew that he had to talk to her. He didn't think he'd run across another witch anytime soon, let alone a benevolent one. Then on top of that, it was someone he knew already. Well, mostly.

At 10:01, he was sitting in the parking lot of Winston's again, waiting for Aniyah. She came out 3 minutes later shuffling through her purse to retrieve her phone as she headed to her car. He climbed out of the jeep and approached her, saying hi.

The fluttery feeling hit her so hard in the chest that it scared the life out of her and she screamed. She dropped her bag, spilling the contents everywhere and the line of cars behind her all pitched back and forth, rocking against their brakes. A few car alarms went off, serving to scare the both of them. This in turn made more of the cars shake and set off their alarms. Only making the situation worse until every alarm in the parking lot was going off.

They both ducked to the ground, cramming her things back in her purse quickly and rushing to the safety of the jeep. "Sorry!" Aniyah shouted against the noise. "I just can't really control it!"

"That was you earlier, wasn't it?" Stiles yelled back. "You knocked over the shelves in aisle fourteen?" She nodded to him, putting her hands over her ears. "Let's get out of here!" He threw the jeep in drive and pulled out of the parking lot quickly, just in time to see people spilling out of the doors to investigate the racket.

"Does that kind of stuff happen to you too?" she asked, lowering her hands to her chest and fidgeting with the fabric of her sweater as they left the grocery store in the rearview mirror.

"Uh, no. Not really." Stiles confessed. Stiles had the strange sensation in his chest as well, but since he was expecting it, he was able to ignore it much easier. He did notice that it was significantly less powerful than it had been earlier at this proximity.

"Oh, you must be better at controlling it than I am."

"Well, not exactly-"

"So what is this?" Aniyah asked a little frantically, smoothing her platinum blonde hair nervously. "What are we? What is... this?" She spread her fingers questioningly. She had no idea. Here she was, a witch and she had no idea about anything to do with the supernatural world. Stiles couldn't fathom how confusing this must all be to her.

"You're a witch," he explained to her simply. "We both are."

"Well wait," she frowned. "You're a boy. So shouldn't that make you like a wizard, or a warlock or something?"

Stiles smiled. He'd thought pretty much the same thing. "No, that's just a stereotype. A witch can be either."

"Oh." She stared out the window pensively, watching the trees go by. "Where are you taking me?"

He wasn't really sure himself. He'd just started driving. As he thought about it, he realized he was on his way toward Aunt Dee's house. He supposed that made sense. She'd have a better grasp on what to do than he did.

"We're going to Griffin's house."

"Your super-hot boyfriend?" she asked, unimpressed. Stiles laughed.

"Yes, my super-hot boyfriend."

"Oh! I mean-" she hadn't exactly meant to say that out loud. "Um... crap. I meant... why? Why are we going to his house?"

"You remember Aunt Dee?" Aniyah nodded suspiciously. "Well... I probably shouldn't be saying this, but she's a witch too."

"Somehow, that's very surprising, while simultaneously making perfect sense."

"Right? She just has this vibe about her."

"Yeah, it's so weird." The longer they sat in the car together, the more the feeling in her chest weakened in its severity. Her heart wasn’t pounding anymore, but the feeling was still distracting. She reached a hand up to her shoulder absently, as if trying to stroke her hair, but dropped it down when she remembered there wasn't any there. A telltale sign of someone who's recently received a drastic haircut. "So, she's the one who's been helping you?"

"Uh... kinda."

"You think she'll help me too?"

"I hope so. Now that I think about it, she did seem weirdly stoked to meet you that day. So she probably would."

Aniyah nodded at him optimistically. She really hoped Aunt Dee would help her learn to control whatever it was that was making things go crazy around her. Well, if she was a witch, then she supposed she could rightfully call it magic. Magic? Goodness. What was her life even coming to? Magic?

"You seem extremely calm about all this." She mentioned, realizing that Stiles was nowhere near as freaked out seeming as she felt. "How long have you known?"

"About all the supernatural stuff? Or known that I was a witch?"

"Um... both?"

"Well, I've known about the supernatural stuff for just over a year now. I've known I was a spark for nearly as long, but it was really only recently that I figured out what that meant."

"Spark? I thought you were a witch? What's a spark?"

"A spark is what you are before you become a witch." He went on to describe what exactly a spark was and the process of igniting your spark.

“Right,” she thought about it. “You said fire? Well, there wasn’t any fire involved in what happened to me.”

“Well, Aunt Dee did say it could happen via telekinesis or manipulation, it’s just less likely. How did you ignite your spark? If you don’t mind me asking.” She squinted and worried at her lip while she considered it. Figuring she might as well, she shook her head as if trying to shake away her doubts.

“It was a little over a month ago. Uh… my parents are getting a divorce,” she explained. Stiles apologized, but she just shrugged and kept going. “I mean it’s for the best or whatever. They’ve been fighting like crazy for a while now. One day they were just going at it for hours. On. End. They just wouldn’t shut up or stop. They weren’t even fighting about anything. Just screaming at each other.

“Anyways, I was downstairs while they were up in their room shouting back and forth. I was just sick of it. It was so much noise, and so stressful, and ridiculous. I wanted it all to stop. I started shouting up at them to shut up and stop it. Obviously, they didn’t listen.

“It got to a point where I was completely overwhelmed. I couldn’t take it anymore. I closed my eyes and willed everything to just _stop_. I shouted it at the top of my lungs. And it did.

“My parents stopped screaming, the entire house went completely silent. I opened my eyes and freaked the hell out. All over the house, it looked like things were falling, or flipping over, toppling to the ground, but they were all frozen. Caught in midair.

“The TV was tipped to the side. The couches were balancing on an axis. Every pot on the hanging pot rack was suspended between the floor and the rack itself. Picture frames were frozen halfway down the wall. My mom’s hundred gallon fish tank was hovering in the air, with water sloshing out of the sides. But it was stuck, not moving. Nothing moved.

“I looked around the room once, and I couldn’t believe it. Then I looked around it again and everything I looked at fell. One at a time, everything came crashing down. My parents heard the noise and came running down the stairs.

“I had been standing right next to the fish tank. So naturally it was the last thing to fall. My parents saw it hit the ground and they saw me right there, so they assumed the worst. They thought I did it all. They thought I destroyed the house for _attention_.

“Funnily enough, my Mom was freaking out about tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of rare salt-water fish dying. Whereas my Dad was concerned about the fact that I was standing in a literal pool of glass. Kinda shows where their priorities are.

“Anyways, I’m sure you can imagine the therapy they put me in after that.” She smirked darkly at the thought.

“Wow.” Stiles didn’t really know what else to say. “That’s pretty fucking intense.”

“Yup,” she nodded, frowning. She wanted to change the subject. Really bad. “How’d you do it? Ignite your spark I mean?” Then Stiles frowned.

“Uh…” he figured he might as well go with the true story. She’d figure it out eventually anyways. “I was attacked by a werewolf-”

“ _WHAT?_ ” Aniyah whipped around and stared at him incredulously. “A fucking werewolf?”

“Yeah…”

“Wow!” she turned back around and faced forward. “That’s incredible.” She slid her hands down her face in exasperated shock. “And here I thought my life was eventful because I had a nervous breakdown and chopped off all my hair… Don’t my problems seem insignificant now?”

“You had a nervous breakdown?” She didn’t want to talk about that either.

“So what happened with this werewolf? Did he bite you?”

“No. Well, he tore right through me,” he pantomimed the motion. “It nearly killed me-”

“Jesus…” Aniyah winced at the thought.

“In fact I _was_ dying. My friends, they uh…” He thought of Derek, clutching him in his arms, stealing away his pain. And of Scott giving up his alpha powers to keep him alive. And of the others, all holding on to him, feeding him their strength and support. “They were just amazing. There’s really no other way to put it. Anyways, you remember that old slaughterhouse that burned down a little while back?”

“Yeah, it was all over the news.” Aniyah thought about how he mentioned the spark being ignited with fire and put 2 and 2 together. “Wait! Did you start that fire?”

He actually hadn’t, but he supposed he’d rather let her think that than admit that he’d ignited his spark by lighting a person on fire. He hadn’t even felt guilty about it. If he thought too hard about it, it scared him that he didn’t feel a drop of guilt about killing Mariah. He just tried not to think about it.

“Thanks to what my friends did for me, I was alive long enough to ignite my spark. Then after that, I was able to heal from the wounds.”

“Wait, we get special healing powers?”

Stiles laughed.“Yeah. We’re basically immortal.”

“Holy fuck!”

“Well okay, not completely.” He admitted before he got her hopes up too high. “We can still die from being pierced through the heart, decapitation, being bisected, drowning, burning alive, or from a werewolf or a vampire bite. We’re impervious to disease, can heal from literally everything else, and we'll never die of old age.”

“I’d like to think the majority of those things aren’t very likely to happen.”

“Right,” he nodded. “So, basically immortal.”

“That’s pretty badass. I can live with that.” Stiles wasn’t sure if she’d meant the pun, but he smiled at it anyways.

“It’s not like a werewolf though. When they get injured, it heals as if it never happened. I thought it would be like that for me too. Just slower. But it wasn’t. I’ve got scars.”

“You know a lot about werewolves. Have you had to deal with a lot of them?”

“You have no idea.” He smirked at her. “They’re not all bad news though. Some of them are actually the good guys.”

“You say so. What about vampires? Please tell me they sparkle. If they sparkle, then they’re nothing to worry about. It’s the non-sparkly ones we have to worry about.” Stiles laughed.

“You know. I don’t have the slightest idea, but when you put it like that, I kinda hope they sparkle too.”

“So Griffin lives with Aunt Dee?” Stiles nodded. “Does that mean he knows about her? That she’s a witch? Does he know about you?”

“Yes, to both. Although he’s not exactly happy about me being a witch.”

“Why not?”

“It’s like a… family thing.”

“Oh my god, is he from a family of witch hunters? And you’re a witch, so his family hates you? And they want to kill you? But you guys’ love is too strong and you’re together anyways? Oh my god, that’s so romantic! Please tell me that’s it!”

Stiles laughed so hard at that, he nearly swerved off the road. “Yeah, no.” He admitted, straightening out the jeep. “That’s more of a Scott and Allison thing.”

“Who?” She recognized the name Scott, but she didn’t know Allison.

“Nevermind. No, it’s nothing like that. Besides, how would that work out if Aunt Dee’s a witch too?”

“Hm,” she pouted a little. “I guess you’re right.” If she thought about it, she was sure she could figure out something, but she dropped it. “How do you think she’ll react when she sees me? Aunt Dee, I mean?”

“Well, for starters, she’s blind so she won’t being _seeing_ anything. I think she’ll react just fine, though. She always seems to know everything a step ahead of everyone else. Maybe it’s a witch thing.” Aniyah nodded, but as his response clicked in her head, she sat up and turned her whole body toward him.

“Wait! Aunt Dee’s blind?”

“Yeah.”

“But she looked right at me that time. She was looking me right in the face, it was kinda creeping me out because of her eyes.” She thought about it some more. “Is Griffin blind too? His eyes are like the exact same almost.”

“No,” Stiles chuckled at her. Her guesses were getting further and further off. “He can see just fine. Better than fine actually.”

“Really? It’s just those eyes… I mean, don’t get me wrong. He’s hot and all, but those eyes are intense! I don’t know how you can look at him for longer than like three seconds without them melting off your face or something. He _winked_ at me and I forgot how to think, walk, and breathe all at the same time.” She settled back into her chair properly, shuddering at the mere memory.

“Yeah. He winked at me the first day I met him, and I walked into a locker and busted my nose.”

“Real smooth,” Aniyah teased.

“Hey, he must have liked it.”

“He must have an awkward fetish or something.”

Stiles chortled at her.“You, know. He might,” he joked back.

Just then they’d pulled up to the Panselinos house and Stiles blocked the driveway.

He intentionally walked past the passenger side of the Durango on his way to the door, dragging his hand over the long key marks he’d scratched into it from the rear light to the headlight.

“Ouch, who did that?” Aniyah asked, noticing the deliberate movements.

“I did,” he answered nonchalantly. She made a face, following him to the door. Before they reached it, Griffin pulled it open. “Where’s Aunt Dee?” Stiles asked without preamble.

“Well, it’s good to see you too,” Griffin answered sarcastically, leaning against the doorframe and sufficiently blocking them from entry. “Oh me? I’m doing great. Thanks for asking.”

“Sorry,” Stiles offered him an apologetic smile. Griffin grabbed the front of his sweater, tugging him into a quick kiss, then kissing him on the neck.

“And who may I ask, is this?” Griffin turned a polite smile to the short, platinum blonde girl behind his boyfriend.

She pointed at herself. “Aniyah.” That sounded familiar.

“Oh. That’s right, from the grocery store.” She nodded. Yup. That was her. The girl from the grocery store. The one with the hair. Except she didn’t have the hair anymore. That was her. That was all she’d ever be. She wasn’t bitter. No. “Can I ask what you guys are doing here? It’s like the middle of the night.”

Stiles scoffed. Before 11 o’ clock was hardly the middle of the night compared to how late they stayed out sometimes. “She’s a witch.” He cut to the chase, jerking a finger at Aniyah. She whipped her head around to glare at him, not sure if he should just be saying it outright like that.

“Ah, yes well…” Griffin stood up straight and allowed them into the house. “I suppose that’s important enough for a late night call.” He led them to the hallway closet and Aniyah made a worried face when he shut the door behind them.

“I’m sure there’s a joke about being in the closet in here somewhere,” she mumbled. They both chuckled right as the inside wall swung open. Griffin took Stiles’ hand as he led them down the stairs. Aniyah stuck her hands out and gripped the back of Stiles’ sweater to keep her balance. It honestly wasn’t the best idea, but thanks to Griffin, nobody died on their way down the stairs.

When they reached the bottom, the candles flicked on and Aniyah jumped, squeaking and tugging Stiles toward her so that she was huddled against his back. She released him and whispered her apologies. He forgave her. Of course he did. He’d been down there plenty and it still made him jump most times. Although never as much as when Aunt Dee speaks before they make it all the way down the stairs. That’s usually when he falls.

“Well, it certainly took you long enough,” Aunt Dee scolded immediately.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked, approaching the third table where she was sitting in front of a book and what he hoped was a glass of wine. It looked more like blood, but he wasn’t going to contemplate that.

“I was starting to think I’d have to tell you about Aniyah igniting her spark myself.”

“So wait,” Stiles was confused. “You knew?” Aunt Dee shrugged.

“Of course I did,” she explained. “Her spark wasn’t quite as bright as yours, so I couldn’t see her from a good distance away. But as soon as I met her, I set aside a candle for her.” She gestured to the candelabra on the far wall. “Candles are very important in witchcraft.” She winked at Aniyah’s general direction cryptically.

“I thought she had to make it herself?” Stiles asked, remembering that was the first thing Aunt Dee made him do when he asked about his own spark.

“Well, it’s certainly helpful, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to. So I threw a little extra magic into it and made her one myself. It worked just the same.” She turned away from Stiles, squinting toward Aniyah again. “Come here, dear girl.” She reached a hand out for her to take. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she told her. Aniyah took it timidly, as she stepped closer. “I know Stiles has been losing his mind, having to put off his magic lessons.”

“Are you serious?” Stiles asked in disbelief. “ _That’s_ what we’ve been waiting for?”

“We surely couldn’t do it with just the two of us, now could we?”

Stiles was about to shout at her that of course they could. Then he remembered something he’d read in one of the first few books Aunt Dee had lent to him. It was talking about the significance of the numbers 1, 3, and 13 in witchcraft, explaining the balance of power and negative effects of witches working together in other numbers. So no, she was right. They couldn’t—or rather shouldn’t—have started their lessons with just the 2 of them.

“Well, I suppose not…” he mumbled instead.

“So…” Aniyah finally spoke to Aunt Dee. “That means you’ll definitely teach me magic?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ll teach me how to control it? Like you did for Stiles?”

Stiles frowned.“Well actually,” he started, but Aunt Dee finished for him.

“I never taught him control. I haven’t taught him anything. Not really. I’ve only given him books to read.”

“So he learned control on his own?”

“Not at all,” Stiles admitted. “I haven’t even been able to use magic since I lit my spark.”

Aniyah frowned.“Why not?”

Aunt Dee reached her hand toward Stiles, beckoning him closer. He shrugged his shoulders at Aniyah while approaching Aunt Dee. She stuck her left hand out as if for a handshake, but when Stiles took it, she jerked him closer and grabbed his arm. She shoved the sleeve back and slid her hand down until it rested on the bracelet that was there.

“This would be why.”

Stiles looked at it questioningly. It wasn’t his first time seeing the bracelet, but just like every time before, he stared at it as if he’d never seen it in his life. He shook his head. “I don’t know what this is,” he told Aunt Dee. “I don’t even know where it came from.”

“I know you don’t. That’s because I never told you.”

“What?” Aniyah and Stiles asked at the same time. Across the room, Griffin rolled his eyes and sighed boredly at the 3 of them.

“Stop being dramatic,” he told Aunt Dee impatiently. “Just tell them what it is.”

She waved a hand at him dismissively. He always liked to ruin her fun. “It’s sanguine red beryl.”

Stiles gave her a blank stare. “Which would be...”

Griffin crossed his arms and answered for her.“It’s a jewel created from your blood,” he explained flatly. “When paired with the right amount of silver or gold and spelled properly, it siphons off your magic, nullifying most of your abilities.”

“Where would I get something like this?” Stiles looked at it as if he were afraid it might chew off his hand.

“Aunt Dee gave it to you when you were in the hospital.” Aunt Dee waved her hand in a motion shaped like a question mark and the plant behind Griffin started shaking. He looked at it curiously when a giant flower suddenly bloomed and coughed a cloud of green smoke on him. He frowned at it, then turned to ask Aunt Dee what the heck she did, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. Oh, that was what she did. She could be so annoying when she wanted to be.

“Why did you give me this?” Stiles asked, growing angry. All this time, he thought something was wrong with him. He was starting to worry that the reason Aunt Dee wouldn’t teach him was because she didn’t know what was wrong or how to fix him. In reality, she was the one who’d been behind it the whole time. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“I didn’t say anything because you would have just begged me to take it off.”

He snatched his hand away and tried to take it off anyways, but as he clamped his fingers around it, he realized that he didn’t want to. He wanted to keep it on his wrist. It was like it belonged there. So he let it go and scowled at her.

“I spelled it so you can’t take it off,” Aunt Dee explained. “Or rather, that you won’t. Your power is too strong Stiles. It can’t be left unchecked. It would draw too much attention to us. Much like all other supernatural creatures, witches are not without enemies. Too much attention could spell danger for a seasoned witch, death for a new witch, and can bring forth more threats to all other supernaturals in the area. In a town like Beacon Hills, that spells certain destruction.”

Stiles frowned into the distance, pensively. “You mean like witch hunters?” He deduced. Aunt Dee nodded gravely and he scrubbed his hand down his face, making his bracelet jingle without his sleeve to hold it in place. “Why is it always hunters?”

“Because humans fear what is different. Call it dangerous. Hunt it down. Try to kill it.” Stiles rolled his eyes. He supposed he understood, but he was still upset about being lied to. “None of it matters now, Stiles.” Aunt Dee explained. “We have Aniyah with us, so we can start the both of your trainings.”

Aniyah opened her mouth to agree enthusiastically, or cry, or recite the national anthem. They never found out because before she got a single syllable out, her pants announced "You talk about things that nobody cares" It continued with the Aerosmith song until she pulled her phone from her pocket amidst a slew of cuss words.

"Uh..." she stammered into the receiver. “Hi dad...”

_Where are you?_

“Oh. Hmm. I'm not sure actually.”

_How are you not sure?_

“I dunno. I'm sure I'm in Beacon Hills.”

_Did you go with the sheriff's son? What's his name? Godek or something?_

“…I'm pretty sure his name is Stiles.”

_Whatever. Is that where you are? Are you at his house? Are you having sex with the Sheriff’s son?_

“Dear Lord Dad. No! I just told you I don't know where I am! Besides he's gay anyways. His boyfriend's standing right behind me.”

_Oh… Well… its past curfew. And you have school tomorrow. So you need to get home. Right now._

“Ugh!”

_Don't give me any lip, 'Niyah._

“Ugh!” She hung up the phone, scowling at it unhappily. “My Dad wants me home, like ten minutes ago,” she explained to the rest of the room.

“I’ll take you,” Stiles offered.

“Can you take me to the store, actually?” She suggested. “If I leave my car there, I’ll have to walk to school tomorrow and… I’m not doing that.”

“Sure,” Stiles chuckled at her before turning back to Aunt Dee. “So when are we going to have our magic lesson?” he asked.

“Well,” Aunt Dee contemplated. “What are you two doing after school tomorrow?”

“I work Monday through Friday,” Aniyah explained. She could probably fake an illness or an injury if she needed to. She didn’t particularly like her job and she doubted her Dad would fire her, even if he caught her lying.

“That’s quite alright,” Aunt Dee nodded as she thought about it. “We can meet Saturday. That gives us time for Griffin and I to get some things ready for the two of you.”

Though Griffin couldn’t speak, he shot Aunt Dee a dirty look that clearly conveyed that he didn’t recall volunteering for any of this. Of course, she didn’t see it.

They agreed to meet up at Stiles’ house early Saturday morning, (she meant afternoon, right? Right? No? Stiles doesn’t agree to this! This is _not_ a mutual agreement!) Then Stiles left to return Aniyah to her car. They were so distracted by the excitement of an upcoming magic lesson, that Stiles barely stopped to say goodbye to Griffin before tripping up the stairs with Aniyah in tow.

They drove back to Winston Grocery, chattering excitedly the whole way. About halfway there, Stiles thought back to the brief conversation that Aniyah had with her father.

“Oh,” he started. “By the way, I’m not gay.”

Aniyah turned to look at him, confusion plain on her face. “What?”

“You told your dad that I was gay. I’m not.” She squinted her eyes at him curiously.

“I think your _boyfriend_ might disagree with you on that…” she smiled at him disbelievingly.

“I’m bi,” Stiles corrected her. “As in bisexual.” That was the first time he’d said it to someone since he admitted it to his friends that day in the library. By now, he’d found himself quite well adjusted to the idea. He’d just never really had another reason to say it out loud.

“Oh!” Aniyah looked shocked, as if she had forgotten that was a possibility. “Oh,” she repeated. “I guess that makes sense.” She frowned at herself, wondering why that had never even crossed her mind.

Stiles tried to suppress a laugh at the confused look on her face before asking her what the weirdest reaction her magic has had on something yet. Just like that, they turned back to their merry conversation and continued that way for the rest of the ride.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look! A wild Plot has appeared!

Chapter Break (Friday)

The TV was playing loudly in the living room while Stiles cooked dinner for his Dad. Melissa had been called in to cover for someone at the last minute, and Scott stayed behind at the Animal Clinic to help Deaton after hours. So their dinner had been effectively canceled. He usually reserved having the TV up really loud while he cooked for when he was home alone. However, the Sheriff was reading away on one of his old case files upstairs and Stiles decided that he didn’t care. John would shout down the stairs or text him if he had a problem. So far he hadn’t.

Stiles was in the middle of proverbially patting himself on the back for putting together this night’s low sodium concoction and it actually tasting halfway decent. Then, the commercial on the TV ended and the news came on, touting a report on a strange death. That made Stiles turn his head. He couldn’t see the screen from where he was, so he tilted his head to hear it better.

The news anchor described the police responding to a 911 call just outside of Beacon Hills. A young mother had returned home after getting her daughter from day care when they stumbled upon the body of her husband. He was curled up over the toilet in the bathroom, oozing a thick black substance from all of his orifices. There was some in the toilet bowl as well, suggesting he’d been retching it up before it finally killed him. Judging by the expression frozen on his face, he appeared to be in a lot of pain. The wife and daughter were traumatized by the sight.

Paramedics and police were baffled by the scene, unable to determine any kind of foul play. Assuming it to be the result of some strange new virus, the CDC had been called to investigate and the neighborhood was quarantined.

The anchor insisted that these were all just precautions and that so far, Beacon County had nothing to worry about. She encouraged everyone to stay up to date with their shots and informed the audience that she would keep them updated as more news of the strange event had emerged.

Leaking a thick black substance from every orifice?

That sounded suspiciously like a rejection to the bite. That meant there was an alpha running around biting people.

Stiles supposed there was always the possibility that it wasn’t Peter. He’d been completely radio silent the past month. In fact, Stiles had been certain he wasn’t even in town anymore. Why would he start trying to turn people now?

Stiles had just enough time to feel a lump building in his throat guiltily before his phone chirped, indicating a new message. It was Isaac. He tried to swallow it down before checking the message, not fully managing it.

Scarfy: Did you see the news?

Batman: The report on the suspicious murder?

Scarfy: Yeah. Sounds a lot like what happened to Gerard.

Batman: I was thinking the same thing.

Scarfy: A rejection to the bite?

Batman: I’d put money on it.

Scarfy: Any ideas who it might be?

Stiles took a long moment to think about how he wanted to answer that question. In the end he didn’t have to decide because Isaac sent him another message right away.

Scarfy: How many alphas do you know are in town?

Scarfy: I’ll talk to Scott about it.

Wait, what? What the heck did that mean? Since Isaac obviously didn’t know about Peter, there was only one person he could be talking about. Stiles sent off a series of outraged texts.

Batman: You think it’s Griffin?

Batman: There’s no way it’s Griffin!

Batman: He would never do that!

Batman: He doesn’t want betas anyways.

Batman: Isaac!

Batman: Hello?

Isaac stopped responding to him and Stiles cursed aloud.

Of course the suspicion would fall right onto Griffin. It didn’t really make sense for him to do something like that, but there really were no other suspects. At least not unless Stiles admitted the truth about Peter.

He took another second staring at the keyboard of his phone, trying to decide what to do. If Peter was back and biting people that meant that he was a threat again. But he could be found, then he could be stopped.

Stiles lifted his right hand to rest on his left shoulder, just where the scars Peter had given him started. He wrapped his left arm around himself, resting his elbow on the forearm as he thought back to that night. Peter had been talking about wrapping up loose ends. Stiles was a loose end.

All of a sudden, he was there again, cornered against the wall of the abandoned slaughterhouse. Peter was closing in on him with that condescending smile. He raised his claws above his head, then swung them back down, tearing Stiles open. His legs gave out beneath him and he slid down the wall, watching the blood collecting in his lap. Fragments of the roof were falling around him, flaming and filling the air with smoke. Between the smoke, the blood loss and the pain, Stiles couldn’t breathe anymore. He kept gasping and panting, but the air never made it to his lungs. Somewhere in the distance a phone was ringing, but he barely heard it past the sound of his heart, frantic and loud, throbbing in his ears.

He sat like that for what seemed like forever, growing cold and feeling himself drifting closer to that line between unconsciousness and awake. He had lost too much blood and his vison was starting to fail him. Everything faded into greyscale and blurred around the edges. The only color he could see was red. It was everywhere. So much red. His entire torso was red, his legs were a splotchy red all the way down to his knees.

The pressure in his head was building as his body fought for precious air that it wasn’t going to get. The blurry edges were now shifting to blurry everything and he was starting to see white spots before his eyes as he prepared to pass out.

Suddenly, there was a dark figure standing over him. They were reaching down to pick him up.

It was Derek!

Derek was there to save him and he gasped in relief. The sudden intake of air washed over him like waves of water crashing against a dry and sandy beach. He whimpered in excitement, the only sound he could make while struggling to catch his breath. Derek was there. Derek was his savior. His support. His lifeline. His everything. He tangled a hand in his shirt as he tugged him closer and buried his face in his chest, pulling in stuttering breath after breath, taking in his scent.

Slowly, his breathing evened out. The pressure in his skull released and his heart stopped pounding in his ears. His eyes were closed, yet he could tell his vision was clearing up regardless. He kept breathing Derek in, but that was when he realized that something was wrong. The smell was off. He didn’t have a powerful nose like a werewolf, but he could still tell that the smell wasn’t completely Derek.

As his body relaxed and his heart rate slowed, the smell of smoke and blood dissolved from his nose. The wall of the slaughterhouse disappeared and Stiles found himself—body still intact—on the kitchen floor, back against the counter, clutching at his father.

John cradles him against his chest stroking his back soothingly while he breathed through his panic attack.

“You okay, Kiddo?” he asked cautiously. Stiles nodded against him, afraid to use his voice. “Geez, Stiles,” John sighed. “You haven’t had a panic attack in years.”

Stiles chose not to correct him about the one he had when John was kidnapped by the Darach. Or the one he had when Mariah made a specter of his mother try to kill him. Or the one he had in the shower 3 weeks ago when he realized Derek wasn’t coming back but he thought that Peter was. In fact, no one knew about that last one and Stiles intended to keep it that way.

“Was this about-” Stiles shook his head sharply as he gently removed himself from his father’s arms. No. This panic attack wasn’t about his mother and he didn’t want his Dad to think so. However, he still didn't want to talk about Peter.

“Allison,” he lied, voice croaking a little before he cleared it. “Her birthday was yesterday. I realized that I forgot.”

John helped him to his feet, then wrapped him up in a bone crushing hug. John knew how Stiles had been blaming himself for Allison's death in the beginning. So he didn't even question that anything related to her should be enough to start a panic attack. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked carefully. John wasn't much for words and expressing feelings, but he's do anything to help his son feel better.

"No uh," Stiles cleared his throat again. "I'll be okay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Stiles pulled out of his dad's grasp again. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. He remembered the sound of the phone ringing. "Uh, who called?" He asked.

"Oh." John was grateful for the subject change. "That was Kiana. She had to be called in to help out with the CDC because that weird death over in the valley. She wanted to know if you could watch her daughter. I told her you could, but if you're not feeling up to it-"

"No! I am!" Stiles absolutely loved Deputy Kiana Adamski's daughter. He'd watched her a few other times since his Father had been on leave and he thought she was the sweetest most adorable thing ever. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Peter in any capacity after having spent the past month pretending that he didn't exist. The deputy's daughter was a perfect distraction.

"You sure?" John asked warily.

"Yeah," Stiles insisted. "I'm okay now. It'll be totally fine. Besides, now that I think of it, I actually miss that girl like crazy."

"Okay." John nodded. "But no jumping on the couch this time, he warned.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles babysits and gets a surprise visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another long one. 10 pages of questions being answered with a side helping of fluff. Enjoy.

Chapter Break

Stiles wasn’t entirely sure why Deputy Adamski thought he’d be a good candidate to babysit her 2 year old. Sure, he thought she was the most adorable thing ever and he loved playing with her in the few moments he would see her. However that didn’t necessarily make _him_ the best choice of babysitter. Regardless, she had chosen him and he loved every single minute of it. So here he was in his kitchen with little Lusia sitting on the counter, smiling up at him brightly while he microwaved chicken nuggets.

He imagined it had something to do with the fact that her father was probably the only other Polish person town. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly known for its diversity, so—especially after marrying an African American woman—Andrzej Adamski had been quite shocked to find the Stilinskis and immediately decided that he liked them. John being the sheriff certainly helped lead to that decision.

A part of Stiles thought it might have been a kind of payback for John having Deputy Adamski take over the larger part of his role while he was on leave, causing her to need someone to watch Lusia more than usual. Obviously it wasn’t the Sheriff’s fault he’d been shot (or an attempted car thief’s fault either, as Melissa so cleverly explained when she brought him to the hospital), but it was definitely his fault that he picked her. However with all the attacks on the sheriff’s department over the past year, John was running low on deputies he trusted with the job. He might have chosen Parrish just because he was so good at his job, but he hadn’t even been there for 6 months. Giving him so much responsibility wouldn’t have looked good, no matter how competent he would have been at it.

The microwave beeped and Lusia glanced at it before laughing up at Stiles excitedly, clapping her hands.

“You’re hungry, huh?” Stiles asked, voice bordering on babytalk but not completely there.

“No,” Lusia nodded at him merrily, pushing her brown curls out of her face. “Chitchen nuts,” she pointed at the microwave.

“You don’t want them?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“No.”

“You look like you want them.”

“No.”

“Are you gonna tell me anything other than no?”

“No.” She frowned at him then stuck her arm out toward the microwave impatiently, grunting as she pretended to reach for the nuggets.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles chuckled as he pulled the plate out and went to scoop some string beans onto it.

“No,” she made a face at the vegetables questioningly.

“What? You don’t like vegetables?” She just blinked at him. “Oh you’re eating those veggies. I make the sheriff eat his vegetables. I can make you eat yours. Unless you think you’re tougher than the sheriff.”

“Yes.” She said it with such confidence, Stiles couldn’t help but duck his head and laugh. “Dzień dobry!” she shouted over his shoulder.

“Sweetheart, it’s not morning-” a chair scraped loudly behind him and he jumped so hard, she laughed and clapped at him.

He knew it wasn’t his father because he would have heard the floor creak above him when he reached that one floorboard in the hallway. He also didn’t hear the front door hinges squeak, so he knew the person must have come through his window.

He sighed at Lusia and leaned over to whisper into her ear. “Whatever you do, never get a werewolf for a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Just don’t do it. They’re bad news,” he confided. She nodded at him conspiratorially, but he jumped again when the person behind him spoke.

“Not your boyfriend,” Derek said. Stiles whipped around fast, glaring at him. “And you really shouldn’t tell her that.” He was just standing there, looking at Stiles with the same slightly irritated seeming expression as usual. As if, him randomly popping up after 4 weeks of _radio fucking silence_ was no big deal.

Stiles gaped at him incredulously for a long moment, not really sure what to say. He finally snapped his mouth shut, frowning, and settled with shouting “WHERE THE _HELL_ HAVE YOU BEEN?”

“Uh oh! Dats a no-no!” Lusia called behind him. Stiles turned back around, lifting her off the counter and placing her on his hip. He grabbed her plate and settled her at the table, handing her a green bean. She took it, but eyed it suspiciously. When she opened her mouth to complain, he snuck another one into it. She bit it unhappily, preparing to spit it out, but when she tasted it she kept chewing, taking the rest out of his hand then biting the other one.

He turned his complete attention away from Derek, not really wanting to look at him right then. He was too mad. Derek sighed through his nose and sat down in the chair he’d pulled out.

“I went looking for Peter,” he explained. “I figured, if he was an alpha now, he’d immediately be up to something. So I went after him right away. I followed him to the hospital, but he left you alive, so I kept following him, out of town and all the way up to Oregon. I caught up with him outside of Portland, but he gave me the slip. I stuck around—trying to catch his trail again—but the local pack up there said they hadn’t seen him, then chased me out of town after lingering around too long. That was when I found out he'd come back down this way.

“My timing was just a little off. If I'd made it back here sooner, I might have been able to stop him before he bit anyone. The guy died. There was cops and news vans on their way by the time I’d left. So, I imagine you’ve heard about it by now."

Stiles nodded.

He wasn’t sure what explanation he was expecting to get, but this one made too much sense for him to really be mad about. Of course, that didn’t quite stop him. For now, he had another thought on his mind.

Derek had just confirmed that the man on the news had been bitten by Peter.

"What are you going to do to him when you catch him?" Stiles asked, barely managing to contain the trembling in his voice.

Derek glanced at Lusia before admitting, "I'm gonna kill him. It's the only way to deal with him. It's not about revenge this time. It's about safety. For you. For the rest of us. For the general fucking public. He needs to be put down. Don't tell Scott, he probably won't approve." Stiles nodded, absolutely agreeing. "Who all have you told about Peter?"

"No one." Stiles had never said a word about Peter being at the slaughterhouse that night, let alone that he was the one who'd attacked him and killed the alpha. Everyone assumed the monster alpha slashed Stiles and that Griffin killed it. He just didn't remember because of his head trauma. Griffin barely remembered that night at all. Stiles never bothered to correct them.

Originally, he honestly didn't remember. Once he did, he could never bring himself to tell anyone. Whenever he thought about it, he got a huge lump in his throat that threatened to unravel his composure at the seams, then he changed the subject. Eventually, he didn't see the point anymore. Peter had disappeared without a trace or trail for them to follow, and he'd been completely inactive until just that night. It's not like they could have chased him or done anything about it if they did catch him. Stiles thought there was nothing _to_ _do_ about it anyways, so he saw no point in going through the trauma of bringing it up.

"Good." Derek's shoulders relaxed by a fraction. He seemed really worried about how many people knew. "Don't tell anyone. In fact, don't worry about him at all. I'll take care of him. You just keep acting like you don't remember. If he does manage to come back around, he likely won't bother you if you can't implicate him. Just like at the hospital. I don’t know why, but he’s got a soft spot for you. He really wants you in his pack."

Stiles tried to ignore that last part and instead focused on the part where Peter should be dead soon. Again. "So, you're going to be an alpha again?" he asked warily. Derek gave a single sharp shake of the head.

“I don't want to be alpha again,” he insisted. Which was just as well. He’d been pretty shit at it. “I'll have to find some way to kill him indirectly. Light him on fire again or something. I'll figure it out.”

"Maybe, I can help you," Stiles offered.

Derek shook his head again. "I'm not going to let you kill him for me Stiles. I know you must hate him for what he did to you, but I'm not going to do that to you."

Stiles furrowed his brow, but didn't argue. That wasn't going to be the last that Derek heard of it, though.

Lusia picked up a green bean off her plate and reached over to hand it to Stiles. "Hee go, Saiyo," she told him happily, mispronouncing his name like usual. He took it and tossed it into the air, catching it with his mouth. Lusia squealed in delight at the trick then handed him another one. He took it, but this time he handed it back to her. "Dziękuję," she told him, cramming it into her mouth with a high pitched shriek of a laugh.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, smiling.

They sat in silence for a while. Or as silent as it could get with a happy two year old chattering incoherently between them. After a minute, Derek looked down at his lap a little nervously. “Look,” he started. “About what happened before–that night…”

Stiles knew exactly what he was talking about, but didn’t know where he was headed. Thinking of the night he was attacked _and abandoned_ , all of a sudden he was really fucking mad at Derek. 4 fucking weeks of misplaced rage all boiled to the surface as he absently reached his right hand up to grip his left shoulder right where the scars started in a grip that was just to this side of painful.

“I don’t…” Stiles started in a shout. He tried to cut off whatever Derek was going to say, but didn’t know with what.

“No,” Derek waved his hand through the air to silence Stiles. He needed to get it out. He wanted to finish or he might lose his resolve and never say it. “I just,” he sighed heavily. “I wanted to say, _I_ _’_ _m sorry_.”

Stiles blinked at him angrily, waiting. His grip on his shoulder lessened almost imperceptibly.

“Sorry for just leaving–after all that happened.”

Derek blanched a little at the memory of Stiles dying in his arms. The way everything was stained with red. The way he couldn’t smell anything past the heavy, metallic fragrance of his blood. The blank, almost unseeing look in Stiles’ eyes as he stared up at the sky, certain he was taking his final breaths. Breaths that were laborious and shallow, wet, and gurgling in his chest. The feeling of Stiles’ fingers laced through his hair when he and Scott had managed to relieve enough of his pain for him to release the tension in his body.

He was so thankful Stiles was still alive, and he never wanted to see him like that again.

“I wanted to make sure you knew-” he swallowed around a lump building in his throat. “That was the reason I left without saying anything. It wasn’t because I didn’t care, or because you weren’t important. Stiles, you're the-” he stopped and shook his head before finishing from a different angle. “It was because I wanted to stop Peter. To protect you. I thought I could do it quickly.” Stiles let go of his shoulder altogether and let his hand fall to his lap. “If I knew it would have taken this long just to catch up with him- I wouldn’t have-” he shook his head, frustrated and fumbling over his words. “I would have stayed-”

 “Om nom nom-nom-nom-nom-nom,” Lusia cut him off, loudly munching on her green beans and happily clicking her shoes together.

Her random outburst completely destroyed the moment, but Stiles had heard what he needed.

All this time he'd been frustrated because after nearly dying in his arms, Derek still didn't give a fuck. After so many times of them nearly dying and saving each other, Stiles still didn't mean anything. He wasn't even worth the trouble of checking on him in the hospital or even speaking to him in the weeks to follow. But if the real reason he'd been gone all this time was because he wanted to kill Peter first— _to protect Stiles_ —then that put things in a whole new perspective. Maybe Stiles did mean something after all.

Stiles chuckled at Lusia's antics, letting the anger he’d been filled with drain right out of him. He leaned back in his chair, letting his head loll over the back as his whole body fell limp. It’s like his entire genetic makeup had changed with the weight of 4 weeks of stress and aggravation lifted off of him. Derek could sense the change in him and grinned too, allowing himself to appreciate the toddler’s humor.

‘With _you_ ,’ was what Derek had meant to say. ‘I would have stayed _with you_.’

“So who’s this, anyways?” he asked instead.

“Lusia Adamski, one of the deputy’s daughters.”

Lusia pat herself on the head. “Me me me!” she informed them.

“Yeah, that’s you,” Stiles agreed, reaching over to dust crumbs out of her hair. “You like your chitchen nuts?” he imitated the way she pronounced chicken nuggets. She crammed one in her mouth and nodded at him. “Want some juice?” Her hazel eyes went wide and she nodded again, slowly. Stiles got up to get some, chuckling again. She was too adorable.

“So how’d you get stuck babysitting?” He did seem good enough at it. Before this, Derek would have questioned the sanity of anyone who’d thought it a good idea to leave Stiles with a child. However he seemed pretty up to the task.

“Her mom’s taking over a lot of my Dad’s duties while he’s on leave. I’m not sure why, but she asked me to watch her to fill in when her usual sitter is busy.” He shrugged, setting Lusia’s sippy cup in front of her. “Thanks, by the way,” he added. “For helping my Dad when I asked you to. I don’t think he would be here if you hadn’t gotten him out of there.”

Derek shook his head. “Don’t thank me. I just got him to the highway. Melissa was the one with the amazing timing who swooped in and took him to the hospital.”

“But you got him to her, Derek.” Stiles looked him directly in the eye. “Thank you.”

Derek dropped his eyes to the floor bashfully, before darting them back up to see Stiles. “Anytime,” he said quietly.

Deciding it was getting too sappy for her liking, Lusia cut right through their moment again, this time shouting “Wahoooo!” before going back to her sippy cup as if nothing had happened. They both laughed at her silliness and she giggled at them in return, dancing in her seat.

“She is pretty adorable,” Derek admitted.

“Yup!” Lusia agreed around a mouthful of nugget.

Derek asked for an update on everyone else. Stiles told him how Scott had been pretty down about not being the alpha anymore for all of 10 minutes, but he’s handling it really well now and seems perfectly fine with it. For reasons Stiles’ can’t quite wrap his head around, Scott honestly doesn’t regret it. That was probably what’s making it so much easier on him. Stiles also pointed out that Scott and Kira are now officially dating. No more of the “Are they? Aren’t they?” nonsense.

He mentioned how Isaac’s been super withdrawn lately and he can’t figure out why. No one really knows why. He hasn’t been speaking to anyone enough for them to figure it out. He’d been really quiet and almost emotionless seaming. Stiles was actually starting to worry about him. At least he wasn’t actively avoiding them or being a complete douche nozzle like Stiles had done.

Lydia’s been fabulous, like always. She’s been spending a lot of time with Malia and Danny. Stiles thinks that’s good because she really needs a confidant. He didn’t mention the tiny pang of jealousy he gets that it’s not him, but somehow he felt Derek knew about it anyways.

Also, apparently Danny really misses Derek, although he hasn’t said it outright. He talks about him a lot though, he even muses about where he thinks he’s been. His most recent guesses were back to New York, and skulking in the werewolf underground of San Francisco. He’d actually contemplated finding him with the GPS tracker in his phone, but decided against it. That made Derek smile fondly. It was always nice to know he’d been missed.

Derek was curious as to who this Malia person was. So Stiles was presented with the task of explaining how they’d discovered his cousin. Derek was shockingly unsurprised to realize that Peter had a long lost kid. Derek had always known him to be openly gay. So knocking up some girl seemed like just the kind of ridiculous shenanigans he would get up to just to piss somebody off. Probably Talia. She took his memory of Malia away? Definitely Talia, then. Derek perked up quite a bit at the thought of more family. Stiles mentioned that Malia said she wanted to meet him and he agreed right off the bat. If Stiles didn’t know any better, he might have even said he was eager. Stiles promised to text Scott and arrange a meet up between the two on Saturday, after his magic lessons. He promised to bring the whole gang along to avoid any undue awkwardness.

Stiles said his Dad was doing well although he was bored as hell. He should be able to go back to work part time in a couple more weeks. Melissa had been around a lot lately, taking care of him. Stiles swore that if they weren’t dating by summer vacation, he was taking matters into his own hands, because now it’s just getting ridiculous. He and Scott were going to Parent Trap that shit up.

Derek asked how _he_ _’d_ been doing. Stiles informed him he was doing better. He was a lot happier now that he was only a few hours away from his first magic lesson. When Derek made a face, Stiles remembered that technically Derek had never found out that he’d ignited his spark. No one else had figured out what had happened to Mariah before, either. Until he remembered himself, they were all trading around theories, each less likely than the other.

Stiles told him how he’d set Mariah on fire to save them from her death spell, and Derek was shocked. They’d all been so focused on him, none of them had even heard her up in the tree. He asked how the hell Stiles had (“Das a no-no!”), so he recounted the entire experience explaining how for a brief moment, he could feel everything through Scott’s alpha senses. Derek found the whole thing to be incredible. He had no idea that was what happened. Cora had never mentioned anything like that. Although he figured she may not have noticed. She was completely out of it at the time.

Stiles went on to explain that Aunt Dee had become all cryptic and annoying like Deaton for a while, and she wouldn’t teach him anything. He told him about how she taught him to lie to werewolves. Derek scoffed at that, saying he was a terrible liar and would never get away with that. Stiles only smirked back at him silently for a few seconds until Derek was able to process the thought. If Stiles had been lying about Aunt Dee teaching him to lie, then he should have heard an uptick in his heart just then. Unless of course he was telling the truth and he had been able to repress the uptick. In which case, there wouldn’t have been one anyways because he hadn’t been lying. Derek frowned as he thought about it and Stiles laughed, getting Lusia to laugh with him.

He continued on, telling Derek about Aniyah and how Aunt Dee had just been stalling for time until they’d finally run into each other so she could teach them both together. He even showed off his bracelet, shaking it and making it jingle as he explained how it stopped him from using magic. He seemed almost proud of it, even though he thought it was the source of all his pent up anger.

He told Derek about how mean he’d been lately. He’d just been filled with so much aggression, and frustration. He thought he had really been getting to him that he couldn’t use magic in addition to everything else that had been going haywire in his life, but he was trying to bottle all of it in. It only served to make him bitter and angry. He’d just constantly been mad, and taking it out on everyone else. He was trying to be nicer, but it was still pretty hit and miss depending on the situation. At least he was talking to Griffin again.

“Wait,” Derek asked, confused. “You stopped talking to Griffin? Why?”

Uh, does Derek seem strangely optimistic about that?

Stiles rolled his eyes, but explained. “I stopped speaking to him because he promised he would keep my Dad safe. But he let him get kidnapped, and when we were in the slaughterhouse, he wouldn’t save him.”

Derek squinted his eyes at that pensively, “Well, yeah but you can’t exactly be mad at him for wanting to save you first.”

“No, but I _begged_ him to save my father and he didn’t listen. My Dad is the most important thing to me. He knew that, otherwise he wouldn’t have offered to protect him in order to convince me to kiss him at Melissa’s house. He used that to manipulate me into giving him what he wanted, but when it really mattered, he thought I was being ridiculous.

“He’s been doing that shit so much lately. When I stop to think about it, he’s really been doing stuff like that pretty much the entire time I’ve known him. I’m only just recently starting to notice, but I see it every time now and it pisses me off. Especially since I’m usually pretty powerless to stop it.”

That did justify being pretty mad at him. To be honest, Derek was a little shocked to think of Griffin as using Stiles’ loved one to manipulate him, even if it was for something as innocent as a goodbye kiss. Although he didn’t find it shocking at all to hear he was manipulative in general. So far it didn’t seem to be anything particularly big, but it always starts out that way, doesn’t it? It made him wonder how far Griffin would take it.

“What made you decide to change your mind?” he asked.

“My Dad mostly,” Stiles admitted. “Also, I ignored him for two weeks, cussed him out, called him controlling and a manipulator a few times, and then keyed his car. He had been apologizing so much, I figured I could stop punishing him.”

 “You keyed his car?” Derek laughed. Stiles nodded and he only laughed harder. “You’re such an asshole,” he teased.

“Uh oh! No-no no!” Lusia waggled an accusatory finger at Derek and he apologized to her. She was done with her food and juice by then, so Stiles cleaned her up and took her to go sit on the potty chair she’d been brought with. They came back and she was changed into her pajamas. Then Stiles spread a blanket out on the living room floor and dumped her bag of toys on it. The three of them sat on the floor together and she played between them, occasionally crashing a car or an airplane into their legs.

They sat like that for a while. Lusia playing, with Derek and Stiles chatting over her. They started off on different sides of the blanket. Slowly, but surely, they were subconsciously gravitating toward each other. Each movement—each crossing of the legs, shuffling to get comfortable, leaning on a particular side or stretch to tease Lusia with a toy—closed the distance between them by a fraction, until Lusia was left with only a small space between them. Eventually, she just moved and started playing around them. Not much longer after that, they were sitting side by side, completely flush from hip to ankle. They were leaning their backs on the couch and Derek had an arm stretched across the cushion behind Stiles’ head. It was so easy, and comfortable, and the transition so subtle, neither of them had really even noticed the lack of space.

It was always like that between the two of them. They started off not being able to stand each other, throwing glares and threatening looks when their boundaries were crossed. Now they were so used to each other that sitting or standing too close, or needlessly touching didn’t even register anymore. Of course, Stiles always had boundary issues. He was far more tactile than most. So things like that never fully processed in the first place. Not until someone pointed it out, or complained.

It was much more significant that Derek didn’t notice. He always exuded this brooding aura that kept people at a slightly less than healthy distance away. Somehow, Stiles had weaseled his way across that metaphorical barrier, and just pressed himself right up against the werewolf. If asked about it, Derek might have the insight to blame it on the time he’d spent 2 hours in Stiles’ arms in the pool. That would certainly have desensitized him to the boy’s touch. Unbeknownst to the 2 of them, there was something else at work to be blamed.

Lusia was very well behaved, which Stiles was thanking his lucky stars for. He didn’t know what he would do if she were a little tyrant like most 2 year olds. Every now and then, she would come over to show Derek or Stiles something, or just smile up at them sweetly, asking for a hug. Mostly, she was perfectly content to play by herself, leaving the boys to chat amongst themselves while they watched her. The whole thing was very cozy and quite domestic. They were both surprisingly enjoying themselves with Lusia, despite the fact that they were essentially doing nothing.

After having played for a while, Lusia decided that it would be fun to put her toys on her head. The tiara made sense, but the cars, the doll, and the mega blocks made much less sense. Stiles thought it was cute and started taking pictures with his phone. When she couldn’t get anything to stay balanced, she decided to try putting them on Derek’s head. Again, the tiara worked, so it stayed there. However nothing else did, so she just started putting them everywhere. On his shoulders, in his lap, and going down his legs.

Derek kept laughing and he was making the most adorable scrunchy face. He looked completely at ease and off guard. Stiles had never seen him so relaxed. He certainly never saw him laugh like that before. He was almost as adorable as Lusia was. Stiles snuck a few pictures of him smiling openly, but then Derek caught him and he frowned at the camera. Stiles got an up close shot of his trademark grumpy cat scowl, with the purple and pink tiara sitting on top of his head. It was hilarious and Stiles declared it the new background to his phone.

Lusia managed to coax Derek into sticking out his arm while she balanced more mega blocks on it. They kept slipping off, but finally she was able to get one to stay on his bicep. He waited until she was coming to put another, then flexed his arm as hard as he could. Lusia just about died with laughter when the block shot up 5 feet into the air and sailed across the room. She raced to go get it and put it back, so Derek did it again.

After about the 12 billionth time of doing that, she was finally getting tired and kept yawning. So Stiles had her help pick the toys off Derek and put them back in her bag. He laid down another 3 or 4 blankets to create some good padding, and let her lay on the floor while the Pajanimals played with the volume really low. She was fast asleep 10 minutes later.

Derek decided he ought to head to his own home and get settled himself, mentioning that he hadn’t been there yet. He’d come straight to Stiles’ house as soon as he was back in town. Stiles found that to be a little curious, but didn’t mention it. He figured he was just concerned about him healing properly or something.

He let Derek leave, then collapsed on the blankets beside Lusia. Derek hadn’t been the only one that was strangely relaxed. Despite the news he’d heard earlier, that night Stiles was the calmest he’d been in weeks. All the pent up anger and aggression that had been raging beneath his skin had melted out of him. When he laid down on the floor, he realized that he just wasn’t pissed off anymore.

He’d meant to only relax there for a moment before going to clean up the kitchen, but found himself asleep not long after. At 12 o’ clock, the sheriff ventured carefully down the stairs for a snack before Deputy Adamski got there. He spotted the two of them sleeping on the floor and stole Stiles’ phone to snap a picture and send it to himself. They were totally adorable.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Dee finally teaches Stiles and Aniyah magic!
> 
> Another longish one. Just over 9 pages.

Chapter Break (Saturday)

Griffin looked about ready to gouge his eyes out. Stiles smiled at him amicably, brimming with excitement himself. Griffin just glared back at him grumpily. He was not happy about any of this. After having just spent an entire afternoon driving Aunt Dee around and hauling crap around in his Durango to fill up some random empty field in the middle of the preserve, he was not excited about sitting around said field all day and watching the 2 witches learn magic, or telekinesis, or acrobatics. Or how to cook crystal meth. Whatever. He kind of just wanted a Slurpee and that was all that mattered.

On top of that, he was also pretty peeved at the way Stiles had smelled when he picked him and Aniyah up that morning. He’d hopped out of his SUV to greet them, leaning down to kiss his neck like always when he had to resist the urge to growl and clamp his teeth on the witch’s throat right then and there, marking him and claiming him as his own.

“Derek’s back,” he’d said. It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact. He’d pulled away from Stiles’ neck, frowning a little. Stiles smelled like someone else too. He didn’t recognize the scent, he just knew that it was a human. The human’s smell was more concentrated than Derek’s. It was as if they’d been clutching Stiles’ neck for a long period of time. It was faint, so it was obviously from yesterday, but it was still strong enough to smell, implying they’d been doing it a lot. It was a little concerning, but nowhere near as much as Derek’s scent.

Derek’s scent, while weak, wasn’t radiating from his neck or anywhere else specifically. It was oozing out of his pores as if Stiles had been crowded in his space for a long time, or wearing his clothes. While Griffin felt like he trusted Stiles, there was no ignoring the implications of either of those things. Okay. To be completely honest, Griffin wasn’t 100 percent sure he _did_ trust Stiles when it came to Derek.

In addition to that, the aloof boredom and irritation vibes he’d been sending off may have been slightly driven by the thin layer of bitterness he felt about the fact that Stiles was a witch. Griffin would have preferred to be gathered in this field teaching Stiles to shift, helping him work out what his anchor was, and teaching him how to use his heightened senses to the best of his advantage.

Stiles would have made an amazing werewolf. His intelligence, observational skills, ability to think outside of the box, and unwavering determination would have cultivated him into the ultimate predator. Instead, he was wasting it on spellcasting. “Hippy stuff” was what Pappous called it. Certainly there was power in witchcraft, there was just no place for it in the life of a predator. And Griffin was a predator.

And it was too fucking early in the morning for any of that nonsense anyways. It was a Saturday, he should be sleeping right now. Fuck _all of them_.

“Alright,” Aunt Dee rubbed her hands together, almost as eager as the newbie witches. “Stiles, I’m going to let you remove your sanguine red beryl bracelet soon-” Stiles cheered “-but-” he booed “-before that, I must warn you.”

Stiles whined impatiently. He was done with all this waiting. He just wanted to do magic already. He could practically taste it, he was so close to doing it. Aunt Dee shushed him and continued.

“Aniyah knows this already, and you ought to have read about it by now. However you’ve been completely cut off from your magic, and thus have no real idea what it’s like. Witches _feel_ differently than humans do.”

“So, what,” Stiles asked, sardonically. “My smooth baby-like skin is going to turn green and bumpy?” He rubbed his hands over his face for emphasis.

“No, child,” Aunt Dee rolled her eyes at his comment while beside him, Griffin was trying to suppress a smirk. “I _mean_ witches tend to be prone to violent mood swings because they don’t just feel _their_ emotions. They feel the emotions of everyone around them. Remember that?” Stiles shrugged his eyebrows. He vaguely remembered reading about that, but not thinking much of it and skimming the passage. “One’s sensitivity to it tends to depend on the strength of their magic. However, the stronger a witch is, the better they tend to be at keeping the external emotions out. Stiles, you are at a stark disadvantage. You are very powerful, but your magic is highly uncontrolled. So when you open yourself up to it, the emotions around you are going to flood you and overwhelm you.”

“Well that’s going to suck,” Stiles frowned. “How do I stop it? Or control it?”

“You don’t. There is no way to control it. It’s a part of our physiology. You just get used to it. The more you get used to it, the easier it is to separate your own emotions, but you never stop feeling them. You’re going to have it easy now because there’s three of us-” Stiles pointed at Griffin questioningly, wondering if Aunt Dee remembered, that he was still there, but she kept talking. “The three of us will balance each other out so we’ll hardly feel each other. It’s Griffin you have to worry about.”

“Oh,” Griffin called out sarcastically. “Now I exist!” Aunt Dee continued to ignore his presence.

“Being at a single person’s disposal is much more difficult than being in a group of people. The swirl of many emotions flying about around you is easier to separate from yourself. Whereas one set of emotions is a lot more difficult to keep out. Unless of course, you’re in an angry mob or something where everyone is channeling the same thing. In which case you’re fucked.”

“Well,” Stiles snarked. “That’s encouraging.”

“Griffin in particular is a hard person to be around because he feels things so strongly. It’s his Panselinos blood. He’s also very good at suppressing his emotions, but we can feel them regardless. So it’ll often surprise you the kind of things you’ll pick up versus the vibes he gives off. You yourself are much the same way, although I imagine you already knew that. Your friend Isaac is another one. I’ve only spent a small amount of time in his presence, but it’s enough for me to understand that he’s the most enigmatic person I’ve ever encountered in my life.”

While Stiles found all of this to be rather _fascinating_ , he just wanted to get to the magic. “Great,” he snapped impatiently. “Duly noted. Can we just get to the telekinesis now?”

“Alright, alright.” Aunt Dee clapped her hands, beckoning Griffin to her side.

“Not your slave!” He called out to her.

“You are today,” she disagreed. “Now come on. Chop chop.” She clapped again and Griffin rolled his eyes before begrudgingly pushing himself off the ground and going to stand beside her. She had him direct the group of them toward the other side of the field where she had a pair of large rocks waiting for the two witchlings. “Okay then,” she smiled in their general direction. “The most important thing for the two of you to learn is how to control your telekinesis. Everything else is extracurricular. So, first things first. You’re going to levitate these rocks.”

“Uh,” Aniyah frowned at them. “They’re kind of… _big_ … rocks.”

“Big rocks,” Stiles countered gesturing to them, “or small boulders?”

“Small boulders,” Griffin grumped beside them, thinking back to how much _fun_ he had lugging those things into the Durango then depositing them where they were.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Aniyah whined. “I’ve never managed to move anything on purpose. When I do it on accident, it kinda-” she made a flinging gesture with her arms. “-flies all over the place. Maybe we should start with something smaller…?” Aunt Dee shook her head.

“It’s much harder to control something smaller. The bigger the better. Isn’t that right Stiles?” She beamed at Stiles conspiratorially, but as she said it, she tugged on Griffin’s arm where she was latched onto him as he guided her.

“Uh,” Stiles made a face at her, “I’m not entirely sure I know what you’re implying.”

“Well I,” Griffin answered, making a face of his own. “Am entirely positive I don’t _want_ to know what you’re implying.”

Aniyah winced as she realized she knew exactly what Aunt Dee was implying and wished she didn’t. Really, lady?

Changing the subject while Aunt Dee grinned evilly at the teenagers, Stiles reached his left hand out to her and shook his arm, jingling his bracelet in her face. “So what are we gonna do about this?” he asked a little petulantly.

“Patience child.” Aunt Dee reached a hand up slowly to grab his wrist. “I was getting to it.” She wrapped her fingers around the silver chain, feeling the individual plates and jewels. She muttered something in Latin before pulling a pair of red beryls off, but leaving them pressed against his skin. She reconnected the bracelet less the missing pieces and Stiles began to frown at her. “Baby steps,” she warned. “The first one will release your powers, but the second is the one that will let you use telekinesis. Anything more than that and it’ll be too strong to control.”

She exhaled sharply, then the next time she spoke, her voice was deeper than usual, low and smooth. It felt like silk in Stiles’ ears. It wrapped around him and enveloped him. “You are now free to remove the bracelet whenever you like,” she told him. When he heard the words, they were echoed in his ears with a sense of power he wouldn’t dare to disobey. As quickly as the gripping tone had wrapped around him, it fell right back off, leaving a slight ringing in his ears for the next few seconds. She was undoubtedly using some type of mind control magic.

Aunt Dee dropped her hand, releasing the final point of connection between the gems and Stiles’ skin. When she did, he was hit so hard with a wave of emotion that it literally made his ears pop and he smacked his hands over them. All of a sudden, he found himself completely pissed off, bordering on a rage. He really didn’t want to be there. He could think of a million things he’d rather be doing than standing in that field. This whole thing was fucking stupid!

“Well, fuck!” he shouted, hands still clamped over his ears. He turned on Griffin, already falling victim to the werewolf’s emotions. “Are you really that mad?” he snarled.

Griffin rolled his eyes, halfway expecting this already. “Do I look mad?”

“You certainly _feel_ mad!” Stiles could feel the irritation crawling under his skin and it had him itching to start a fight. “If you didn’t want to be here, nobody was asking you to stay!” Griffin smirked at him and he found himself growing impossibly angrier. “This isn’t fucking funny!”

“Actually, it’s a little funny.”

“Shut up! No it’s not!”

Griffin raised his hand up, showing a small space between his pointer finger and his thumb to indicate: just a tiny bit. Stiles tried to suppress a smile. Okay, maybe he was still irritated beyond logic but it was pretty amusing.

“I hate you!” He shouted at Griffin, actually smiling now. “This shit is annoying!” Griffin reached out to grip Stiles’ forearms and pull his hands away from his ears. As soon as he made physical contact, all the irritation drained out of Stiles like a sieve. Instead, he was filled with fond exasperation, with humor and amusement oozing out of his ears. “Oh my god!” He leaned forward and dropped his head against Griffin’s chest, stifling laughter. “It’s like I’m off my fucking meds. I just want to be calm, but I can’t. I really just can’t. I am unable to can.”

Griffin kissed him on the forehead before turning him around and ushering him to stand beside Aniyah at the big ro-small boulder. “Go do magic,” he encouraged him.

“Ready now?” Aunt Dee asked, smirking herself. Stiles sighed heavily, still grinning like a loon for no real reason before agreeing. “Good. Now, you have to believe in yourselves,” she told them. “If you doubt your magic, it won’t work. All witches can do telekinesis, it’s like _breathing_. Never forget that.”

“But how do we control it?” Aniyah asked a little shakily, confidence lacking.

“By keeping calm and focused-”

“Ha!” Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, I’m probably not the best candidate for that…” Aunt Dee ignored his comment and continued talking.

“It reacts to powerful emotions.” That explained why Aniyah kept knocking shit over when she was surprised. Also, Stiles was fucked. Funny how that worked out. “If you keep your mind calm, it’s much easier to control.”

“Stiles…” Aniyah frowned thinking about the pair of them and the similarities in their personalities. “We have to keep our minds calm…” he nodded in agreement. “We’re fucked.” He nodded more vigorously.

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Aunt Dee waved them off. “Drop your doubts and just do it.”

“Just do it, huh?” That wasn’t the first time Stiles had heard the Nike tagline from her.

“Exactly. A wonderful motto to live by for a witch. Now stop stalling and give it a try.” She waved her hands in a shooing motion toward the rocks.

Aniyah whimpered, but turned to her boulder and tried to do as Aunt Dee said. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and pressing out all of her doubts with it. She could do this. She’d done it before on accident. Doing it on purpose had to be within the realm of possibilities. In fact, she’d done it rather spectacularly when she ignited her spark. She could do this. She focused her attention on the stone, clearing everything else from her mind. Instinctively, she reached a hand out as if to lift it in her palm. She imagined herself doing so and when she raised her arm, the rock came with it ten feet away. She lifted her arm higher and higher, laughing when she had her arm raised nearly straight up into the air.

“Very good Aniyah,” Aunt Dee praised. Stiles glanced over to her, wondering how she could tell she’d done it. Certainly she couldn’t _hear_ it rising through the air. He was surprised to see that her eyes were glowing a brilliant emerald, radiant and bright, but quite a few shades darker than Griffin’s. She was using her magic to aid her sight. He wondered what she saw.

She had explained to him before that there was no way to fully restore her vision, not even temporarily. It hadn’t been lost by any conventional means. Another witch—a longtime adversary of hers—had taken it away with a spell. She’d sealed the spell with blood magic, so that specific witch was the only one capable of lifting it. However, the same battle that stole Aunt Dee’s sight, eliminated the only way to return it. The witch couldn’t remove the spell if she was dead. There was nothing else to be done.

Fortunately for Aunt Dee, her specialization had always been “seeing things that can’t be seen.” So when she lost her traditional eyesight, she was still able to see auras, bonds, imprints of magic, and other things of that nature. In fact, without her traditional eyesight to get in the way, it all became amplified and the spectrum of what was visible to her became much larger than before.

Stiles was distracted from his musings when Aniyah shrieked happily. The rock had grown too heavy for her so she lowered it to the ground, jumping up and down in excitement.

“Ha! I did it!” she shouted a little shrilly, clapping her hands. As her excitement spiked, some of the random things that had been sprinkled around the field near them launched into the air. “Oh shit!” They shot up so suddenly, that it scared her _and_ the ever jumpy Stiles. “Fuck! Fuck-fuck fuck!”

Stiles screeched too, ducking out of the way and falling over. His reaction caused the things that were already levitating to spin in fast circles. Aniyah then flinched and ducked at Stiles’ outcry, making it all worse and sending everything flying.

“Oh crap!” Stiles shouted when he realized his part in it all. Panicking, he reached his arms up as if to try and catch the flying objects. They kept spinning out of control, flying around the whole field as he freaked out more when he couldn’t catch them. Aniyah tried to help him return the objects to solid ground, but only added to the problem. Soon they were creating quite the scene as the both of them were running around the field with their arms raised to the sky, screaming and making things shoot through the air around them.

Without a drop of irritation left in him, Griffin doubled over in laughter, eventually falling to the ground with tears in his eyes at the two space cadets. “Oh you are fucked indeed, Auntie!” he agreed between wheezes. “Good fucking luck!” he teased.

Aunt Dee sighed dejectedly. What was she going to do with these ones? “Would the both of you _relax_?” She shouted at them.

It took a full 13 minutes for Aunt Dee to calm the pair of spazzes down enough for them to stop effecting all the junk in the field. It would have taken much less time if Griffin hadn’t been laughing so hard. He’d been exuding so much happiness that he’d gotten both Stiles and Aniyah to join in until the 3 of them were piled together in the too long grass guffawing at their antics. The things had stopped flying, but they were rolling around on the ground instead, occasionally crashing into each other.

Just as they’d been about to calm down, the laughter picked back up again when Aniyah noticed that a blocky old TV had been leaving a trail behind as it slid across the grass as opposed to rolling like everything else. Stiles—drunk and stupid off Griffin’s humor—pointed out that it looked like it had been moonwalking then proceeded to call it Michael and threaten to lock it up because it was a smooth criminal, it didn’t matter if Billy Jean was not his lover, it’s just a thriller. That set off another fit of giggles. Griffin laughed at his ridiculous boyfriend, which in turn just amped up Stiles’ laughter even more, making Griffin laugh even more in a ludicrous little cycle that was giving Aunt Dee a headache. Soon, they were right back to square one, Stiles wheezing out that he had to pee.

Realizing that she’d grossly overestimated her students’ emotional stability, Aunt Dee gave up on telekinesis and instead had the pair of them sitting down in the grass, meditating. She muttered a spell to conjure up some comfy pillows to sit on and led them through some breathing exercises to relax them. After a few minutes of Stiles smirking every 5 seconds, she commanded Griffin to join their meditation and the 3 of them were able to stay calm that way.

Finally, she sat down with a pillow in front of them, meditating herself and all 4 them sat in the field peacefully for 2 whole hours.

Stiles was a little surprised with himself at how easily he was able to clear his mind and fall into a peaceful state. He’d tried meditating a few times before when he was younger. It had never worked out so well, even after he’d been taking his Adderall. Now that he actually wasn’t ADHD anymore, it came as a kind of shock to him that he was able to achieve a sense of a calm so easily then maintain it for so long. Of course, this wasn’t until Griffin had been doing so for a while already and was calm enough to stop flooding Stiles’ emotions with his own. So it wasn’t all _that_ easy, but 6 months ago the entire thing would have been impossible. That was enough to impress Stiles.

When their first hour of meditating was up, Aunt Dee had Griffin search the field for a pair of milk crates they’d fished out of an alley and set one in front of each of the witchlings. She had the two of them maintain their meditation with the addendum of keeping the milk crates balanced on their flat palms as they extended their arms straight out away from their bodies. She had them focus their energies on the milk crates, to keep them from moving.

It was simple enough. For the first 30 seconds. Their arms grew tired rather quickly, as Aunt Dee was expecting they would. By tiny little increments, their arms drooped lower and lower. They were focusing their energies on keeping the crates in place, so as their arms sank they subconsciously levitated the crates off their palms. First it was by mere millimeters, then up to a few inches. Eventually they’d both rested their arms completely on their laps, stretching them until their hands were resting near their feet with their palms still up.

It worked exactly as Aunt Dee hoped it would. She had them keep the crates hovering in front of them as they sat meditating for 20 more minutes. After the first 5 she had them practice lifting them above their heads then back down. The next 5 were spent moving them side to side. The final 5 had them moving in small circles.

Griffin had stopped meditating with them after he’d fetched the milk crates. Aunt Dee had shooed him off to keep from distracting Stiles, so he boredly wandered out of his “emotional range” until he found a spot where he had enough reception to scroll through Tumblr on his phone.

Aunt Dee had the pair stand up with their crates and sent them walking through the field on a mini scavenger hunt. They picked up small items and trinkets and tossed them into their crates, instructed not to touch the crates or place them on the ground. Aunt Dee hadn’t intended for this part to be a scavenger hunt, but—after the havoc they wreaked on all the items she and Griffin had so painstakingly brought for their lessons—that was the only way to find anything.

They did rather well. Stiles took to it surprisingly well. His history with lack of focus had actually made him a rather effective multi-tasker. So he had no trouble searching the grass while still using his telekinesis. The only time he had a bit of trouble was when he’d come across a small piece of machinery that was silver. It wasn’t too much bigger than his hand, and was heavier than it looked. It was a piece of a car engine, identical to the one that Erica had hit him in the face with outside of Boyd’s house nearly a year ago. As he made the realization, he started to drop his basket, thinking about the way she died being held captive by the Alpha Pack. He recovered quickly, pushing the thought from his mind and catching the makeshift basket in mid-air.

Aniyah had a bit of a harder time of it, dropping her crate 4 or 5 times. After she’d been doing it for a while, she started to get the hang of it and was able to keep it steady for a good while as she filled it up. She even ran out of actual trinkets to put in there and picked up rocks instead because she hadn’t quite wanted to stop yet.

When Aunt Dee felt they’d had enough, she ushered them back before her and had them use their telekinesis to empty the crates on the ground before them piece by piece. They were both shocked to discover the difference it had on their bodies when the crates were empty versus full. They hadn’t noticed how much more effort they’d been putting into keeping the full crates suspended because the change had been so gradual. When they had the empty ones again, it surprised them how they were able to move them around so effortlessly.

Aunt Dee used that as a metaphor to help them understand their magic a bit more. Magic is like a muscle. The more you use it and the harder you work at it, the stronger it becomes. However, also like a muscle, if it’s overworked it will make you weak and can cause more damage than growth.

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the field, practicing with moving things around. At first, the things they practiced with became progressively bigger and heavier until they had each filled an old refrigerator with whatever they could fit in it and were able to maneuver it about the field with ease.

The refrigerator was the biggest thing there, except for the Durango. (Haha Stiles! As if Griffin would let him dare. Don’t give him that puppy dog pout, it is not going to work!) So after that, they started with things that were similar in size to the milk crates and working their way down.

Aunt Dee hadn’t been kidding when she said moving smaller things was a lot harder than the bigger ones. They both struggled with it. Lifting them was easy enough. The problem was lifting only the single thing you wanted if it was surrounded by other things. Even when trying to pick up something sitting by itself, they often came up with tufts of grass and clods of dirt as well. Another issue was getting it to stay still. When the larger things were in the air, the witches had some semblance of control over the items, getting them to stay steadily in one spot. However, when they picked up a smaller item, it vibrated more wildly, shaking in the air or bouncing back and forth between a few different points.

It had taken them 3 hours total of practicing, for them both to get it down. Though they hadn’t actually been doing a whole lot of physical activity, they were both exhausted by the end of it. Aunt Dee told them they could be done for now and had Griffin bring them a cooler they’d packed full of food and drinks from the back of the Durango. (No Aniyah! It is _not_ a Beast Monster! She’d better not start too!) They set it up in the shade of the trees and made a little picnic while the witchlings rested up.

Stiles sat between Griffin’s legs with his back pressed against his stomach, gushing about how exciting the whole morning had been. Aniyah wasn’t sure if perhaps Stiles was too caught in his own excitement to notice, or if perhaps he just didn’t care. But although Griffin listened along and indulged his boyfriend, smiling and looking happy for him, even Aniyah could feel that he gave absolutely zero fucks about the whole thing.

Stiles continued chattering away regardless, even lifting his yogurt spoon and spinning it in a circle between his hands for a minute. After eating and rehydrating, they lingered around the field for a while longer. Aunt Dee and Stiles talked with Aniyah, catching her up on a lot of the things about witches Stiles had learned already, getting her up to speed.

Soon, Aunt Dee declared them done for the day and warned them not to use any more magic until after they went to sleep. She recommended they load up on protein, but avoid starches, which they would crave like nobody’s business. She instructed them to begin a meditating regimen to help them gain a little control over their emotions. They needed to get a hold on their ridiculous outbursts or they wouldn’t be able to get very far in their lessons. An hour in the morning and an hour in the evening would help them maintain a calm throughout the day. Midday would have been better than the evening, but she knew better than to expect them to meditate at school.

Despite his protests, Aunt Dee put one of the gemstones she’d removed back onto Stiles’ bracelet. She told him it was for the best. Unless he could guarantee that he’d remain as calm as he’d been the whole morning for the rest of the day, it was in his best interest. He wanted to argue that he could, but he knew himself better than that. He’d been planning to meet up with the rest of the pack later that afternoon to introduce Derek to Malia and he knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain his Zen mood during that. So he rolled his eyes and begrudgingly allowed her to put the red beryl back on, but only after she taught him the enchantment to take it off himself.

With that, they headed back to Stiles’ house to get Aniyah to her car and they departed with promises to meet at Aunt Dee's Basement tomorrow.

Griffin dropped Aunt Dee off at home just in time for Lauren to arrive, then he took Stiles and went to get Slurpees.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Griffin kill time before going to meet up with the others at the loft.
> 
> Regular length chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys. 
> 
> See what had happened was... I was supposed to be editing this yesterday, but instead... I spent my free time making autumn themed flower crowns.
> 
>  
> 
> _I'm sorry! I'm trash!_
> 
>  
> 
> But they're so cute. I have one with a nest and a bird on it. So I think it's pretty worth it, though.

Chapter Break

“Uh…” Stiles stammered, breathing heavily into Griffin’s hair as he ravaged _the fuck_ out of his neck. “Are you sure this is a good time to be doing this?”

It had started out as getting Slurpees and pulling over to kill time until they headed over to Derek’s loft. Killing time quickly turned into making out. Now making out was turning into something different altogether as Griffin’s arousal poured into Stiles where he was sitting in his lap. It doubled Stiles’ own desire and his body was pumping out pheromones like a cat in heat. In turn, Griffin picked up on the scents crowding the cabin of the Durango and that amped his lust up even more. It was that vicious cycle again.

Griffin pulled away long enough to tug the last of Stiles’ 3 jackets off his shoulders and tossed it into the passenger seat with the rest before saying, “What do you mean?” Then he latched back onto his neck, trailing down to his collar bone.

“I mean- hughhhh-” Stiles cut his sentence off into a moan as Griffin sucked an angry red mark onto his skin, growling against his bone and sending vibrations down his sternum and pulsing through every one of his ribs. “I mean-” he finished. “When we’re about to go meet up with all of our friends. Werewolf friends… Who will be able to smell all of this on us…?” Well, mostly on him considering how thoroughly Griffin was covering him in his scent.

Griffin growled against him again before responding breathily, voice completely wrecked. “Do you want me to stop?”

“Nonono… Don’t do that!” Stiles almost panicked at the thought. “Don’t. Do that. No stopping. Definitely not with the stopping thing.”

“Then it sounds like a perfect time to me.” He punctuated his statement by removing his hands from where they were clamped down on Stiles’ hips and reaching up to tear his shirt off his shoulders. Stiles made an unhappy noise that died off into a strangled moan as Griffin latched onto his nipple.

“Nngh! I liked that shirt,” he complained, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Griffin nipped at the pink nub before releasing it and teasing it with his hand. “Too bad,” he panted breathily. “I hated it.” He took Stiles’ other nipple into his mouth, giving the boy’s chest his full attention.

Stiles wanted to be irritated. He really did. That honestly was one of his favorite shirts. Now it was ripped beyond repair and he’d never get to wear it again. However, he was much too distracted for anything but Griffin’s mouth to matter. He’d always loved Griffin’s mouth. It’s such a useful thing—and boy did he know how to use it—and so pretty regardless.

Everything just felt so good and Stiles’ whole body was sensitive beyond reason. Every brush of skin against skin felt like volts of lightning and he’d never been so turned on in his life. He knew it was because of his released magic. His magic had everything hitting him 4 times as strong as usual. There was his own arousal and the physical sensations of touching and being touched. There was Griffin’s arousal on top of that. Then every touch that felt good for Griffin spiked his sense of pleasure, and Stiles felt that flowing into himself too. On top of all that, _every single_ _point of contact_ between the two of them _concentrated_ and _amplified_ everything that Griffin was feeling and poured it back into Stiles’ body going double time. It was the strongest where skin met skin, but it was still powerful even through both of their clothes. Considering Stiles was half naked already and sitting in Griffin’s lap, it was taking every ounce of his self-control and nothing short of a freaking miracle to keep him from losing his mind and coming already.

“ _Jesus_!” he crooned when Griffin trailed his free hand down Stiles’ abs and dipped his fingers just below the band of his jeans, lightly grazing his hipbone. Was it always going to be like this? It was so intense already, and he hadn’t even taken his pants off yet. He didn’t think he’d last long this time, but he could get used to this. He could get _so_ fucking used to this! But for now…

He reached down and buried a hand in Griffin’s hair, jerking his head up and away from his nipples. Griffin made a slightly strangled noise and glared at him, irritated by the gesture. Irritated because he was interrupted or because Stiles tugged on his hair too hard? Stiles didn’t care because-

“ _IsweartoGod_!” He forced it all out like a single word. “I need you to take my pants off so I can ride your cock _right now_!” He tilted his head a little to the side, baring his neck for the alpha and Griffin’s eyes flashed red. How the hell could he resist that?

Griffin latched back onto the soft flesh of his throat, taking a gentle bite. Meanwhile a pair of clawed hands reached into Stiles’ pants and boxers. With a single tug, Griffin ripped the fabric off of him, making Stiles shout in surprise at the sudden release of tension when his dick was freed of its denim prison. Griffin reached his hands to Stiles’ ankles, grabbing the hems of his jeans and tearing them upward the rest of the way. Now he could simply slide the fabric out from under Stiles with a sharp tug.

A small frown adorned Stiles’ face as he watched Griffin deposit the shredded remains of his clothing into the passenger seat. Seriously, Griffin was buying him more clothes.

He wasn’t left much time to mourn his jeans before he had a hand on his ass, blunt human fingers stroking across his hole. Too quick to be teasing per se, but too slow to be in any type of a rush. He hissed at the suddenness of it, but then pressed closer, eager to get the real show on the road.

This wasn’t their first time at the rodeo. The rodeo being ‘sex in the Durango.’ So Griffin was already prepared with a bottle of lube in the centerbox, waiting to be put to good use. He didn’t bother with condoms. Considering nether one of them could catch, carry, or transmit any sex related illnesses and the likelihood of Stiles getting pregnant were _considerably_ _low_ , they seemed rather moot anyways.

Griffin reached for the lube, taking his hand away from Stiles’ entrance long enough to coat his fingers before they were back in place, stroking and teasing him open. Stiles moaned at the feeling of him pressing inside, enjoying it as he took the time to stretch him until he could fit 3 fingers comfortably inside.

While Griffin worked at his ass, Stiles worked at Griffin’s clothes. He’d long since abandoned his coat, so Stiles was left with unbuttoning his shirt so he could get a healthy glimpse of his neck, chest, and abs. _God_ those abs. If the angle weren’t so weird, Stiles would have leant down and licked a stripe across them. Instead, he moved downward to undue Griffin’s pants. With a little assistance (and one case of accidentally honking the horn and making Stiles laugh until Griffin turned it into a moan with the fingers still buried in his ass) he’d gotten them down past his knees and falling to pool at his ankles.

Stiles rushed him to lube up his cock and lined it up with his entrance, not wasting any time. Every moment was precious when he was this close to being entirely strung out. He didn’t dare touch his own dick, lest this whole thing be over before it all got started. Carefully, he sunk down until Griffin was completely sheathed within him, and he was seated on his lap.

The power of it hit Stiles hard and caught him completely off guard. Sex was never like this for him before. He wasn’t even moving yet and he was already starting to shake with the intensity of it all. He had to hold himself still to keep from losing it right then and there.

“Fuck,” he panted into Griffin’s hair, voice a shuddering whine. “It feels so good. I just-I can’t-” he couldn’t talk anymore, distracted by the feeling of Griffins hands stroking up his back. The simplest touch affecting him so much. Sending him straight into bliss.

“It’s okay,” Griffin encouraged, pressing his lips into his collarbone. “Don’t try to hold it back. Just lose yourself to the feeling. It’s okay to let it overwhelm you.”

Stiles nodded against him, figuring he might as well. There wasn’t really any other way for this to end (aside from crawling out of his lap, but _that_ wasn’t about to happen). So he wrapped an arm around Griffin’s shoulder and slowly started rolling his hips.

The feeling of it punched him in the chest, making him cry out already. He tried to let it overtake him and he picked up the pace, adjusting his weight so he could use his knees to lift off Griffins cock and slide back down properly. He bounced on his lap, quickly turning into a moaning, panting mess as he let himself completely go.

It didn’t take much before Stiles was gone. The exhilaration consumed him until he was flying high on the wings of euphoria. It was as if everything disappeared around them. It was just himself and Griffin fucking in a bath of golden light. It shone down upon them—bright and blinding—warming their skin and enveloping them like a thousand strong hands. Each one tugging on a different pressure point, a different nerve ending, or receptor in his body. All leading to a point of exaltation.

“Ah… fuck!” Stiles cried out as he bucked his hips against Griffin. His skin was tingling all over. In every place that Griffin drug his fingers, leaving a trail of fire in its wake as his entire body vibrated against him.

Suddenly, Stiles was ripped from his vision and slammed back into driver’s seat of the car. The song “Of Wolf and Man” by Metallica was blaring from the center console where Stiles had dropped his phone earlier, the source of the distraction. He slowed himself but not completely stopping, as he reached down to pick it up, lifting his thumb to answer the call. Griffin jerked his mouth away from where he was attached to the juncture of his shoulder and neck, eyes flashing red.

“If you answer that I swear to _GOD_ I will fling it out the window!” he exclaimed.

“But it’s Derek-” Stiles had expected that informing Griffin it was Derek would remind him that they were actually supposed to be at his loft just then. That way he would forgive him for answering it, considering it’s not like getting a call for being late was a bad or entirely unexpected thing.

Instead, the moment the name came out of his mouth, Griffin bit down on his shoulder and let out a growl from deep in his chest. It was low and vicious, wild and completely inhuman. Stiles could feel it rattling his ribcage, causing a volt of electricity to shoot through him that was so powerful it had his whole body quivering and he dropped the phone.

Immediately forgetting about it—despite the fact it was still ringing—he braced one hand on the roof and the other on the window, grinding down on Griffin’s cock so hard and desperately it made both of them cry out.

“Fuck Stiles,” Griffin panted out breathlessly. He braced a foot on the door so he could buck his hips upward to meet Stiles’ thrusts, the force of the both of them rocking the Durango and testing its suspension. They fucked like that for a little while longer, the passion and aphrodisia flying back and forth between them was so thick in the air they were drunk off it. Nothing else existed outside of themselves. It was just the 2 of them—all burning skin and hot breath, teeth and hair, and pupil’s blown wide—completely lost to the world around them.

Stiles was too far gone again, caught up in the frenzy of lust and desire. He didn’t last much longer after that and Griffin was right behind him. He came with a broken shout, thick ribbons of white pulsing onto his and Griffin’s stomachs. Griffin pumped him through it, milking every drop from him while fucking through his own climax.

Stiles’ vision whited out for a long moment, his entire body went numb, and he stopped breathing a few times as he felt both his and Griffin’s orgasms simultaneously. His entire body quaked violently as they coursed through him, more powerful than anything he’d ever felt before. They hit him like a car crash. Birth and death and life and the sun, all colliding as one from deep within his body. He was pretty sure he died and rose to Nirvana before falling back down into his corporeal self. His shouts tapered off into whimpers and he was trembling. His arms were wobbling and unable to keep holding him up, so he collapsed onto Griffin.

He couldn’t even bring himself to say his usual slew of cuss words when he came. He didn’t have the capacity. His body was weak, every joint like jelly. If he tried to move a muscle, the only response was more shaking. He was really dizzy and his head felt like he was floating away. If he’d had the strength to think in complete thoughts, he would have been concerned about passing out.

As it were, he actually _was_ dangling on just this side of consciousness as his body struggled to come down from his hyper-intense orgasm high. He barely noticed Griffin pulling out of him and rearranging them so they were seated as comfortably as possible in the front seat. They sat that way for a while, catching their breath and basking in each other’s after sex glow.

After a little while, Stiles had recovered enough to actually move, though he was still steadily shaking. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of fulfillment. He was completely spent and his bones felt weak and hollow, but his heart felt warm and whole like it never had before. He reached a hand up to stroke Griffin's cheek as he buried his nose into the hinge of his jaw.

"I love you," he whispered against his skin. When he said it, Stiles felt his heart fluttering excitedly and he couldn't help but to smile at the deep satisfaction building up under his chest. Griffin kissed him on the forehead then tugged his chin up to kiss him gently on the lips.

"I love you too, Stiles."

They lingered that way for a while more. Until there were pauses between Stiles’ bouts of tremors. It was enough for him to argue teasingly with Griffin about his torn clothes until Griffin reached behind him for his backpack. He removed a plain black t-shirt of his and tugged it over Stiles’ head. Then they squirmed around a bit, fighting to get Stiles into a pair of his skinny jeans while still behind the steering wheel. Even then, Stiles was still shivering. After all that heat and fire, he found himself freezing cold. So Griffin pulled his coat from behind his seat and put it on Stiles as well.

Stiles was completely bundled up in Griffin’s clothes. He couldn’t help but to realize that also meant he was covered in Griffin’s scent even more than just from the sex alone. The mood in the Durango was so positive and light that he filed it away for later and continued to bask in it.

He laughed at Griffin once he’d finally been settled back into the passenger seat and was able to get a good look at him. Griffin looked back at him curiously, wondering what was so funny.

“Dude, look at your hair. I totally fucked it up.” Stiles tried to look sorry, but he sounded much too proud of himself to pull it off.

Griffin frowned at him then pulled the visor down to check the mirror. Indeed Stiles had fucked his hair up. It was sticking all over the place, one side raised a little higher from where Stiles’ fingers had tugged on it, all stuck in place from all the spray he’d put in it. His frown turned into a scowl. That just wouldn’t do. He reached into the center box and dug around inside it for a moment before removing a brush. Stiles sputtered and laughed some more.

“Of course you have an extra brush in your car!” he teased. “Do you have hairspray too?” Griffin didn’t answer him, instead he dug around the center box some more until he pulled out a travel sized can of hairspray. “I don’t believe you!” Stiles giggled.

“Hey,” Griffin pled his case. “You never know when you need to add a little ‘roo to your do. This is a perfectly reasonable thing to keep in one’s car.” Stiles devolved into near hysterics.

“I can’t with you,” he wheezed, looking up at Griffin with a combination of adoration, exasperation, and humor. Griffin leaned over to peck a quick kiss to his lips before dropping the purple can back where he’d gotten it and pulling the brush through his hair. He didn’t bother trying to style it the way it was before, instead opting to just brush it down as flat and letting it graze his shoulders.

In just a few minutes he was once again presentable and he gave Stiles one last kiss before pulling out of the trees and back onto the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I dedicated a whole chapter to another of my crappy sex scenes. Don't hate me! So much of this just _had_ to happen!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Griffin meet up with the others at the loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! I'm not dead!
> 
> I hate this chapter. I hate it so HARD!
> 
> Don't worry, nothing bad happens in it or anything. It just took me forever to write because I just couldn't get it to make words! Then when I finally did, I hated every single one of them. I still hate it. I rewrote it like 6 times, then ignored it for 3 weeks (I'm actually pretty sure it was longer than 3 weeks, but I'm going to pretend like I don't know that so I don't have to feel bad about it.) and I still don't like what I came up with.
> 
> But that's it! I quit! I'm fucking done! I surrender! Here! Just have it and pretend like it doesn't suck!

Chapter Break

Griffin and Stiles had finally managed to make it up to Derek’s loft, despite Stiles still shivering and just barely being able to walk properly. Griffin half carried him up the last little flight of stairs then led him inside by the hand

When Griffin walked through the loft door, Scott noticed 3 things.

The first was that he could smell him. Not just his ordinary scent, there wouldn’t have been anything significant about that. He could also smell the stench of sex lingering on him, less than an hour old. That was also not significant. Though gross, it was nothing new or unfamiliar. It wasn’t even surprising considering the fact Scott knew he’d spent the whole morning with Stiles. No the thing that was important about the fact that he could smell him, was that he smelled like alpha.

Griffin had always taken special care not to reveal his werewolf scent to any of the others. The only exception was on Christmas when the scent had been embedded in a shirt that he put on Stiles. Then, it was a lingering scent and not particularly strong. At the time, Scott was also an alpha himself, so the scent, though profound, was rather meaningless to him.

Now, Scott was a beta and though his brain knew better than to be worried about it, his instincts all pumped into hyper drive in recognition of the raw power and dominance rolling off Griffin.

The second thing he noticed was that he was ridiculously happy. He walked in with the biggest, dopiest smile on his face. He was channeling sunshine and sparkles and rainbows and kittens. Somewhere in the world a couple of people must have been having a shitty ass day to compensate for how fucking jovial he was.

It wasn’t strange that he should be happy, especially considering what he’d obviously just been doing. It was just completely overwhelming once he walked in the room. Compared with how hard Derek was frowning all of a sudden, it was actually quite hilarious.

The third thing was the most interesting of all. Griffin came in, leading Stiles by the hand, who was grinning just as big as Griffin. The thing that was so significant about it was that Scott couldn’t smell Stiles at all. All he smelled was more Griffin. It was that alpha smell again, only this time it was a tiny bit different. As soon as Stiles trailed in behind him, Scott was punched in the nose by a smell that set off all his instincts. Every fiber of his werewolf being wanted to reel back and leave a wide berth for the alpha and the alpha’s property. Back off! Do not touch! It warned.

Not entirely sure how to react—but definitely not submissive enough to scurry away with his tail between his legs—Scott held his ground, offering Stiles his typical big smile in greeting. However he didn’t test his luck so far as to approach the pair of them.

Griffin and Stiles stepped inside to a series of greetings and questions about where they’d been from Danny, Scott, and Kira (while Isaac nodded in their general direction by way of hello. Seriously what is _up_ with that kid?). Stiles ignored every single one of them in favor of dragging Griffin straight to Derek’s kitchen and invading his fridge. When he opened it, he saw that he’d reached the jackpot. It hadn’t occurred to him that Derek hadn’t been there in a month so there really was a high likelihood that there would either be nothing in there, or at least nothing edible. Lucky for Stiles, it was loaded up with fresh groceries.

Never once letting Griffin go, Stiles pulled out all the ingredients to put together a sandwich. He opened a bag of bread one handed (cheering quietly to himself when he didn’t drop it) and immediately crammed a slice into his mouth. Griffin laughed at him and reached up to pull it out before he could close his lips over it. Stiles made an affronted whining noise and shot him a death glare.

“You heard what Aunt Dee said,” Griffin explained. “No carbs. You need protein.”

“But I want bread.” Stiles pouted at him, eyeballing the loaf of bread still sitting on the counter. A slice lost its balance and fell over inside the bag as if it were jumping out at him. Teasing him. Calling out ‘Eat me Stiles! I’m _delicious_!’ He whimpered at it and gave Griffin the biggest, brownest puppy dog eyes he could manage.

“Protein,” Griffin insisted, completely immune to eyeball manipulation. Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes dramatically before snatching the bread off the counter and putting it away. He knelt down and began digging through the fridge for more options, still clutching Griffin’s hand.

Derek and Scott sidled up behind them, watching curiously as Stiles raided the fridge and Griffin discarded the hunk of bread in his hand.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, stifling a smile.

Griffin glanced at the pair of them before gesturing to Stiles. “He’s been doing magic all morning and it zapped his energy. He needs food to restore it, and apparently Derek’s fridge has been elected as the source.”

“Hey Sourwolf,” Stiles called out, voice muffled from where he was leaning practically _into_ the produce drawer. “Do you have any pasta?”

“No pasta,” Griffin scolded. “Protein.”

Stiles whipped his head toward him, devastated. “But… _pasta_!” he whined as if that excused everything.

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed with (what only Stiles could tell was fond) exasperation. “Come here.” He gestured for Stiles to sit in a stool at the island before heading to a cabinet that Stiles had never stashed snacks in, thus had never been into before. He started pulling things out and 7 minutes later, Stiles was sitting on the couch—half in Griffins lap—loaded up with 6 protein bars, a bag of trail mix, a yogurt cup, beef jerky, and sucking on a freshly blended protein shake that didn’t taste nearly as disgusting as the ingredients would have suggested.

“Better now?” Griffin asked.

Stiles pulled the straw from his mouth, licking his lips. “I still want pasta,” he complained.

“You’re im-pasta-ble to please.” Griffin deadpanned and Stiles busted out laughing.

“You’re such a dork!”

With the way they were sitting, Griffin was pouring so much giddy happiness into Stiles that he found it completely impossible to pick up on anyone else’s emotions. Which actually turned out to be a good thing because just then Lydia showed up, a cautious Malia trailing behind her.

They were late because Lydia had a flat tire.

Since Stiles never answered his phone, that meant he and Griffin didn’t go to pick her and Malia up. Which meant she had to call a tow truck.

And also meant that Lydia was pissed off.

“Hi Griffin,” Lydia threw the wolf a blinding smile as she approached the pair. She looked down at the witch in his lap, and her smile turned into an icy glare right before she snatched the shake out of his hand.

“Hey!” Stiles frowned dramatically, laughter still thick in his voice. Across the room Danny made a noise that sounded suspiciously like ‘uh oh.’

“Don’t you hey me!” Lydia snapped, moving the cup out of the way as Stiles reached for it, flailing his arms and whimpering desperately. “Why didn’t you pick up the phone when Derek called you?”

“I was a little preoccupied.” Stiles replied simply.

“Doing what?”

Stiles felt a sudden spike of vicious irritation flood through him. It only lasted a moment before he turned his head to Griffin who was watching Lydia very carefully. The irritation faded as quickly as it appeared and the giddy, slap-happy amusement returned.

Stiles opened his mouth to tell her unashamedly exactly what he’d been doing, but Derek cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter, Lydia,” he told her flatly and possibly through gritted teeth. Stiles couldn’t be sure.

“It doesn’t matter?” She looked personally offended by the notion as she rounded on Derek. “I was sitting out on the side of the road for almost _30 minutes_ waiting for a tow truck thanks to that asshole! Tell me how that _doesn’t matter_?”

“Because you’re here now, aren’t you?” Derek raised his eyebrows at her in irritation. “And your car has a new tire. Doesn’t really matter anymore.” Lydia opened her mouth in shock, glaring at him. How dare he disagree with her? “Now give Stiles back his shake.” He jerked his hand back at Stiles to indicate.

Lydia turned back around to face the two lovebirds on the couch. She considered dumping the shake on Stiles’ head. But behind the goofy-condescending grin, Griffin looked like he might bite her hand off if she tried. Then she considered dumping it on Derek’s, but really she wasn’t mad at him. He was just annoying. Stiles was the culprit here. Instead she forced a tight lipped evil smile at the both of them before setting the drink on the floor halfway across the room.

“Mean!” Stiles crowed at her—making no attempts to retrieve it—as she returned to the door to usher Malia further inside.

Malia inched her way into the loft, giving Griffin and Stiles a wide berth as she approached Derek. Being in the building so high off the ground was rather uncomfortable for her, something she hadn’t thought about when she agreed to come. The room was so barren and industrial that she couldn’t get herself to relax. There wasn’t a single reminder of nature in the place outside of the large window looking out onto the sky. She didn’t know what being a werewolf was like, but the coyote inside her was whimpering and desperate to escape. She really just wanted to plant her feet firmly in the dirt. Maybe it had nothing to do with werewolves at all. Maybe it was a product of having grown up in the wild. It was so hard to tell sometimes.

“Malia,” Lydia introduced, prodding the coyote in the back until she was within reaching distance of the wolf. “This is your cousin Derek. Derek,” she gestured with an elegant wave of her hand. “Malia.”

Malia took a deep breath, taking in his scent and categorizing all the information she obtained in her head. Male. Late twenties. He had that underlying dry desert smell that indicated he was at least a little Hispanic, but also the sweet creamy scent to indicate he was mostly white American. All this beneath the chemical tang of “odorless” body wash and deodorant. Coming off him more directly was the protein powder on his fingers from the shake he made Stiles, a burning irritation lined with the tiniest inkling of jealousy, just a faint whisper of sadness, and a bone deep fatigue that implied weeks of sleep deprivation.

It took mere moments for Malia to store all this information away, less than a second. Despite this, she was a little shocked when Derek stuck his hand out toward her with his palm out and his thumb up. She looked at it curiously for a moment wondering what he was asking for.

“Oh!” she shook herself a little as she recalled that this was the sign for a handshake. Yes! She knew a handshake, she remembered from her childhood. She reached out to take his hand, but stopped at the last moment, remembering the complicated gesture that Scott and Stiles taught her had replaced the handshake. She curled her hand into a fist then bumped it onto the top then bottom of Derek’s hand. She then gently smashed it against his still outstretched fingers before finishing off by wiggling her own digits against his palm to apply “sprinkles.”

Behind her, both Scott and Stiles were failing in their attempts to stifle their laughter and Lydia smacked herself in the face, sighing heavily. Derek looked down at their hands weirdly before turning the expression upon Malia and she blanched.

“Uh,” she stammered. “Did I do it wrong?”

“Nope!” Stiles insisted around a mouthful of jerky. “You executed it perfectly!”

“Then why’s everybody acting like I did something strange?”

“Because you did.” Danny explained. “Well it’s not that weird. Some people actually do greet each other in similar ways, but none of _us_ do. A simple handshake would have been fine. Scott and Stiles are just jerks for teaching you to do that instead.”

“Hey,” Scott argued, smiling. “I’m not a jerk.” Stiles scoffed loudly as he noticed that Scott did _not_ say “we.”

Malia frowned at the boys’ antics at her expense, but Lydia brushed a hand over her arm soothingly. “Don’t worry,” she assured her. “We’ll flog them for it later.”

“Flog?” Malia asked, frowning at the unfamiliar word. “That’s one of my vocab words this week,” she recalled.

“Yup.” Lydia nodded cheerfully. “Mean’s we’re going to beat them with a stick.”

“Right.” Malia nodded in understanding then frowned again as she thought about it. “Ouch.”

“We can take turns,” Derek offered.

“Rude!” Stiles complained, glaring when he saw that Griffin was laughing at the idea.

“Add me to that rotation.” Kira raised her hand.

“That’s mean,” Scott whined beside her, poking her in the hip.

“Yeah, I want in on that too,” Danny insisted. “We should form a line.”

“Oh come on, Danny!” Stiles tried to appeal to his better nature. “I haven’t even done anything to you… Recently,” he added onto the end. He wasn’t sure, but knowing himself, he probably had.

“I’m sure there’s some backlogged karma somewhere you could be catching up on.”

“Wait.” Malia was confused, and a little worried. “Are we _really_ going to beat them?”

“No, you aren’t,” Griffin clarified, still smiling. “They’re being sarcastic.”

“Sarcasm. Right.” Malia nodded, trying to keep up.

“Oh, I dunno,” Derek muttered under his breath. “I think there’s still a small possibility.”

“And that’s why you’re the Sourwolf,” Stiles explained simply.

“Where did that name come from anyways?” Kira asked.

Derek rolled his eyes before looking at Malia and gesturing with his head that they step out of the way while the others continued their conversation. She followed obediently as he led her closer to the large windows at the back of the loft. She glanced out of them for a moment, but the view served as a stark reminder of how high from the ground she was and she turned to face away from it.

“They told me about how you spent nine years in the woods as a coyote.” Malia nodded, not sure how to respond to that. “For having only been human a few months, you seem to be adjusting pretty well. Despite Stiles and Scott’s antics.”

“Thanks,” Malia smiled. “Sometimes it doesn’t really feel like it. I owe it all to Lydia, though.” She looked up at the strawberry blonde who was across the room trying to explain to Stiles that someone can’t be a grumpy _cat_ and a sour _wolf_ at the same time while Stiles insisted that it was very possible. “I have a tutor to try and catch me up on the education I’m missing, but Lydia’s the one who’s been teaching me how to people. The others help a lot, especially Kira. But… It’s Lydia. She’s the one…” Malia trailed off as she stared after the sassy genius.

Derek could see exactly what Malia was thinking. He could see it in her face and hear it in her voice just as well as he could smell it coming off of her. He knew exactly how she felt. Which is why he chose not to say anything about it.

Malia turned back to Derek, realizing the conclusions he must have been drawing. She scrunched her face up, trying to find something to say, probably some bogus argument, but he wasn’t looking at him anymore. She followed his gaze to the couch and shook her head in minor disbelief.

“Maybe it’s a Hale thing,” she offered, smiling sadly.

Derek scoffed, dropping his eyes to the floor. “Maybe.”

“Speaking of Hales,” Malia changed the subject. “I hear you know my birth father pretty well. Peter?”

Derek nodded. “I guess I should say _knew_.” He frowned at the thought that the man sneaking around the outskirts of town. The one who killed his sister, bit Scott, manipulated a teenage girl into bringing him back from the dead, and later tried to kill Stiles. Derek didn’t know who that was at all. He was only a shadow of the man he used to be. “I knew him pretty well before… Before the fire.” He frowned at himself for stumbling over the words even after all this time. “Did they tell you about that?” He hated the idea of having to tell the story to her. Thankfully she nodded.

“Yeah. Stiles told me once. He was burned alive?”

Derek nodded again. “The Peter I knew died in that fire. The man who survived is hardly my uncle anymore.” Malia had no response to that, still unsure as to what exactly it was that she felt in regards to Peter Hale. “At any rate,” Derek continued. “It was probably still in your best interest to be given up for adoption. Even before the fire Peter would not have been any good as a father. Ignoring the fact that you probably would have died that day too, he would have raised you to be pretty fucked up.”

Malia openly laughed at that. “More fucked up than spending years in the forest trapped in the body of a coyote? I don’t know. I think it might be pretty hard to top that.”

“Trust me. Peter would have made it look like a fucking cake walk. He’s always had issues. Before, he at least had the sanity the keep him grounded. I don’t know what he’s got anymore.”

Malia nodded, face completely blank as she registered the information. Derek couldn’t be sure, but she seemed a little sullen.

“You said you were in the body of a coyote?” Derek asked. Malia lowered her eyes in confusion at the sudden change of topic, nodding. “Well, I don’t know much about were-coyotes, but if they’re anything like werewolves, then being able to achieve the full shift means you’re actually really powerful.”

“Really?” Malia asked, truly curious and brightening up just a bit.

“Yeah. Only the most powerful of werewolves can turn into an actual wolf. My mother could and some of the werewolf community looked to her in the same way that a tribe would look to their elders for wisdom and strength. If it’s the same for coyotes, power like yours could give you a lot of sway in the supernatural world.”

While it was certainly nice to hear that she could be super powerful, Malia still couldn’t get a handle on the human world. She wasn’t sure she would know what to do with sway in the supernatural world. That was just another thing to add to the list of shit she needed to figure out. She would place it somewhere between algebra and determining the usefulness of that internet thing Stiles keeps trying to teach her about. (Yeah sure, she already knew what it was, but she hardly cared when she was a kid, so why should she care now? It can’t be that much better.)

“It’s a lot to take in. Everything. It’s all just a little… too much.”

“I guess it must be pretty overwhelming,” Derek agreed.

Malia heaved a sigh. “I just have to deal with it all one at a time.” She glanced over her shoulder out the window and immediately regretted it. She was hit with a wave of unease and anxiety strong enough to send her stepping away from it and toward the middle of the room. Derek caught her reaction and followed her over. “I do have one question though.” She directed it to Derek, but the others hushed their conversation as the pair of them rejoined the group. “Where is Peter?”

Derek just barely kept himself from flinching at the question. “Do you want to meet him?” he asked cautiously instead.

“Uh, I’m not sure.” Malia failed to mention that she’d already met him, although hadn’t known who he was to her at the time. She hadn’t gotten any of the crazy impressions from him on the occasions when he would spend time with her in her yard. However he had warned her that the others didn’t think well of him, even as he asked her to keep their meetings secret. She was unsure of how to reconcile the man she’d met to the one the others knew. It was just another thing to add to her ever growing list. “I’m just wondering where he is during all of this.”

Derek opened his mouth to answer, but was immediately cut off by Stiles’ voice ringing clearly throughout the room.

“We have absolutely no idea,” he said. His heartbeat was strong and steady the entire time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking hated the beginning. I actually decided to get rid of the entire thing about Griffin's smell, but changed my mind and decided to rewrite it, but now it sucks. Then I originally did have Lydia throw the shake on Derek, but thought better of it. Then I was going to do this whole thing about Stiles sensing everyone's emotions and being weirded out by it, but took that out too. And it was supposed to be way longer than it is, but I just gave up. I can figure the rest out later, but it's been so long. I had to give you guys something!
> 
> Ugh!
> 
> I would promise the next one will be better, but I might be lying to you if I did. The one after that will definitely not be trash though!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scooby Gang is still at the loft and things are discussed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way longer than I wanted it to be and I still hate it, but I've given up on any attempts to like it in favor of getting on with my freaking story.

Chapter Break

Derek and Malia had spent a little while talking but, both being somewhat anti-social creatures of the night (brilliant description Stiles), there was only so much conversation to be had before the buffer of the other teenagers and their idle chatter became a bit of a necessity to avoid awkwardness.

Stiles’ magic lessons quickly became the next topic of discussion. He eagerly filled everyone in on the morning’s events, talking loudly and gesturing animatedly. The entire time, he remained firmly attached to Griffin’s side, while Griffin silently held onto him. At one point, he stood to remove the coat he was practically swimming in, but had his thigh against Griffin’s kneecap the entire time. The proximity was filling Stiles up with all of Griffin’s emotions and completely blocking out anyone else’s. Griffin was in a perfectly content and cheerful mood, so Stiles wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

“So,” Danny asked, wiggling his eyebrows at Stiles. “You going to show us some of what you got?”

“Yeah!” Scott practically shouted, bouncing up and down in his seat excitedly. Kira giggled as he jostled her. “Let’s see something!” He clapped his hands encouragingly. “C’mon,” he urged.

“Well,” Stiles thought about it. He remembered what Aunt Dee had said earlier about not doing magic until after he went to bed. He also thought about how much meditation it took for him to even use his magic properly. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to control it,” he warned. “It kind of took a lot for me to get it under control the first time.”

He looked down at the silver plated bracelet on his wrist and was suddenly flooded with an overwhelming sense of confidence. He had great power. Aunt Dee said so herself. That bracelet was proof. He could handle something simple like levitating a chair or something. Just a little showing off, nothing complex. “No. Yeah, I think I can maybe lift something. Something small.”

He hooked his finger under one of the red beryls and muttered the Latin words “Reducite beluae” to temporarily release the spell that bound the chain around his wrist, just the way Aunt Dee showed him. He unlatched the gem from the bracelet, then reconnected the chain without it. He twisted the jewel between his fingers for a moment, eyeing it closely. He drug a fingertip over the smooth silver backing pensively before silently reaching over to hand it to Griffin. He took it without prompting and Stiles stood, looking around the room to see what type of damage he could do, keeping his calf pressed firmly against Griffin’s the entire time.

He spotted the table near the window. Many a plot and plan had been formulated around that table. Right now it stood empty, the little desk lamp removed in favor of natural light. That would be his target. He reached a hand out—touching the table from his perspective—then extended his magic out, lifting his arm and bringing the table with it.

The table seemed oddly heavy. Earlier he’d been lifting an entire refrigerator full of junk and it hadn’t felt nearly as heavy as the table felt just then.

Stiles received a cacophony of mildly impressed oohs and an enthusiastic “This is gonna be freaking sweet!” from Scott as he imagined all the shenanigans they could get up to with Stiles’ new abilities. Stiles noticed that Derek was only giving the floating table a pensive frown. Stiles frowned back disappointedly at his reaction when the table dropped from the air and the windows rattled hard enough to echo through the rest of the loft.

Suddenly, everything came into sharp focus and nothing mattered but that table. In a split second, the metal rectangle became the center of Stiles’ universe and he stopped it mere moments before it crashed into the ground. It shot up higher than it was before and he spun it around and flipped it upside down, showing off a little. He lowered it to the floor slowly, spinning it on an axis before gently returning it to its home on the floor.

Once he released his magic on the table, his body felt like lead and he was struck with such a powerful sense of vertigo that he wobbled a little as he rushed to sit back down. He missed and landed on the arm of the couch instead of the small space between Griffin that he’d smushed himself into earlier.

“Okay Stiles,” Danny smiled in fascination. “I gotta admit that was pretty cool.”

Stiles nodded, regretting doing so as he tried to blink the dizziness it caused away. “Well,” he continued, ignoring it. “It’s just the telekinesis for now. Aunt Dee’s going to teach us more, later. She said we’re working on potions tomorrow. Runes and manipulation next, manifestation after that, then we’ll finally get to spellwork.”

“You’re going to be such a badass,” Kira cheered.

“What do you mean _going to be_?” Stiles asked, indignant. Kira just laughed at him.

Lydia asked what kind of potions he’d be making tomorrow. Stiles didn’t know, he just hoped it wasn’t anything nasty like that thing Aunt Dee gave him before. Malia asked about the other girl, Aniyah and the discussion quickly turned to them making plans to meet up with her.

Halfway through determining if Aniyah should be filled in on werewolves (letting her find out through osmosis like Danny and Kira seemed to be in favor) Stiles had to stop and put his face in his hands, forcing back a yawn.

“Are you okay?” Griffin asked quietly, looking up at him. The little gleam in Griffin’s jade eyes suggested to Stiles that he already knew the answer to that question. Strangely feeling no kind of bitterness about it, Stiles shrugged and answered anyways.

"Yeah. Doing that magic just took a lot more out of me than I thought it would."

Griffin nodded in agreement. "Our earlier activities certainly were no help," he smirked.

"Yeah," Stiles scoffed. "I'm going to have to ask you about that later."

"Ask away," Griffin teased, nodding. "I'm quite well versed in the subject. I'll gladly give you any answers you need. I'll even show you examples, give demonstrations if you like. We can just repeat the whole process again so we can figure out exactly what it was you wanted to ask about."

"No!" Scott shouted from across the room, a look of horror painted on his face. "No no no no! No no! No." Stiles and Griffin laughed at his misery. Stiles counted it as payback for all the times of receiving way too many details about Scott and Allison. He’s just glad that Scott didn’t feel so inclined with Kira.

“Whatever!” Stiles replied. “At least you got the G rated version!” Scott whimpered pathetically, looking to Derek for help. Derek was preoccupied at the moment. He was standing near the hole in the wall that served as a doorway to the kitchen, glaring back at the table Stiles had levitated like it owed him money.

“Something a little weird happened to me yesterday.” Lydia cut in, not so subtly changing the subject to Scott’s relief.

“Weird for who?” Danny asked skeptically. “Cause sitting around with a banshee, a witch, a were-coyote, and a bunch of werewolves is pretty weird for some people. For us, it’s any day of the week.”

Lydia pursed her lips pensively. “Okay,” she conceded. “Something _abnormal_ happened to me yesterday.” Everyone turned to face her, eager to hear the story.

Stiles didn’t bother. He was starting to feel like the effort would make him lose balance and fall off the couch. He liked to think Griffin would catch him, but in the event that he didn’t, he had no faith in his ability to get back up. So he stayed put.

“I kept hearing things. The kinds of things that nobody else hears,” she clarified. “It sounded like water dripping, like a leaky faucet. I was hearing it for all of about an hour, then it just stopped. No voices. No visions. No buildup until it was overwhelming. No urge to scream. No fugue state. Nothing. It just stopped. Like someone fixed the sink.”

“That is weird…” Kira frowned pensively. As long as she’s known Lydia, the noises in her head always led to a sort of crescendo. They always indicated something. Suddenly stopping with nothing was completely uncharacteristic.

“So,” Lydia looked around the room. “Any ideas?”

“Maybe someone was going to get murdered, but then the killer changed their mind?” Danny offered, not sure how any of it worked. Honestly, none of them were completely sure how it worked. Not even Meredith was. When Lydia had gone to try to get answers from her, she merely received vague riddle like responses that she ultimately decided meant essentially nothing.

“I don’t know. Usually I only scream or hear things when its somehow related to the supernatural. Otherwise I’d be screaming nonstop. People die every day for mundane reasons.”

Scott frowned pensively before adding, “I think it may have to do with what Isaac told me about on the news last night.”

Stiles masked the sensation of his stomach dropping down to his feet by tipping over and resting most of his body weight against Griffin’s side, leaning his cheek into his hair that still smelled like Aussie spray and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“What was on the news last night?” Danny asked. He looked at Scott, but Lydia turned an inquisitive eye on Isaac. Following Lydia’s lead, Malia looked to Isaac as well. Kira and Scott’s gazes followed until everyone’s eyes were on him. Stiles had his eyes shut, having already heard and knowing plenty about the situation. Griffin took the opportunity to roll his eyes while nobody was looking at him.

“Well, uh,” Isaac stammered, clearing his throat as he spoke for the first time that day. He looked uneasy to have all eyes on him and was looking at the floor. “There was a report that a man was found dead with a mysterious black liquid pouring from his mouth, nose, and ears. Everyone seems to think it’s some kind of disease, but it looks a lot like what happened to Gerard… after… after he got bitten.”

Scott noticed his hesitation. He clearly hadn’t wanted to say “when Derek bit him” because that wasn’t exactly what happened. But he obviously didn’t want to say “when Scott forced Derek to bite him” either.

“Like a rejection to the bite,” he offered. Isaac nodded.

“So he died because the bite didn’t take?” Kira squinted as she pieced it together. “But if he did die, why didn’t you scream?” Lydia shrugged.

“If the bite didn’t take,” Danny suggested, “then he wasn’t supernatural. He was still human, right?”

“Technically,” Derek agreed.

“Then maybe you were hearing the dripping because something supernatural was going on, but it didn’t build up to a scream because ultimately he died a human.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Derek mulled it over. “We don’t really have any way of knowing, I guess. Lydia’s powers are still confusing and they’re pretty difficult to learn about.”

“Who bit him?” Malia cut in, getting straight to the point that everyone else seemed to be tiptoeing around.

All eyes but Derek’s and Stiles’ (who were still closed) turned to Griffin, the only known alpha in the area. No one wanted to say anything, but the question was still hanging awkwardly in the air. This time he rolled his eyes when everyone could see, having already known the conversation was leading there. “Well it wasn’t me,” he sighed, irritated.

Stiles found himself to be irritated too. Of course it made sense that Griffin would be the first suspect, but it was still a little infuriating that nobody trusted him enough to just know that he wouldn’t do that. He’d admitted before that he didn’t want betas and he didn’t want Scott’s territory (or Derek’s since it was technically Hale Territory). So why would he start biting people now? The whole reason he came to Beacon Hills was to lie low from whatever trouble he’d gotten into in Washington. Creating more betas was exactly the opposite of that.

“Then who was it?” Malia asked.

“Well that’s the million dollar question, now isn’t it?” Griffin sassed back.

Derek huffed loudly. “I’ll figure it out,” he announced, crossing his arms. “I’ve already been looking into it.” Everyone turned around to ping pong their eyes over to Derek.

“What?” Scott asked, looking almost scandalized that Derek was taking action without telling him about it.

“I’ll handle it,” Derek insisted. When Scott looked about to argue, Derek lifted a hand to stop him. “You guys don’t _need_ to worry about it. An alpha pack? A ritual sacrificing darach? A nogitsune? A psychotic witch that wanted to destroy the whole town? You guys are high school students and that doesn’t even _begin_ to cover what you guys have been through. You’ve had one hell of a year and you deserve a break. This is _one_ alpha. You guys focus on school, and Stiles can focus on his magic lessons. I’ll take care of it.”

“Derek,” Scott argued with him anyways. “We don’t know that it’s only one alpha. Just because he’s biting people now doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a pack already-”

“Actually,” Griffin interrupted, “this alpha doesn’t have a pack. If he did, he would be giving off a certain aura of power that Derek and I would be able to sense. It’s the kind of thing that can’t be turned off and doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s likely what drew the alpha pack here in the first place. You and Isaac would be able to sense it too if someone had ever bothered to teach you how. This alpha snuck by us without being noticed. It’s definitely all alone.”

Scott shook his head. “Maybe it’s packless, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s alone.” Scott turned to Derek. “You can’t just take this thing on alone. You know just as well as we do that everything isn’t always what it seems. This could just be some rogue alpha, or it could be something much bigger and scarier than that.”

“ _Or_ it could just be some rogue alpha,” Derek countered. “Look,” he pleaded, seeing that Scott wasn’t going to back down. “If it turns out to be anything bigger than what it appears, I’ll let you know. I’ll come to you and we can take it on together. But it’s not your job to protect this town, Scott.”

Stiles opened his eyes slowly to gaze at Derek as he heard the silent “it’s mine” lingering on the end of his sentence. The effort was momentous for him with every inch of his body weighed down with a bricks of lead. Derek was looking at Scott with a fierceness in his eyes that Stiles never recalled seeing there before. Derek didn’t want any of them involved in the upcoming fight with Peter. It hadn’t really occurred to Stiles before, but Derek truly did want to protect them.

“We’ll stay out of it,” Stiles promised.

Scott whipped his head around to face him. “Stiles! You can’t-”

“We will,” Stiles cut him off, eyes still on Derek, promising to keep them safe and in the dark as well. “He’s right. We’ve had a shitty year and we deserve a break. He says he can handle it and I believe him.” Then Stiles finally flicked his eyes over to Scott. “Or are you saying you don’t trust him.”

“Of course I trust him!” Scott insisted. After everything they’d been through together, he had nothing but trust for him. “I just feel like letting him do this alone could be sending him into the dragon’s cave without a suit of armor.”

If Stiles had more energy, he would have come up with a witty comment about Scott’s use of metaphors. “Derek knows what he’s getting himself into, don’t you?” Stiles turned a questioning eye on Derek, but Derek wasn’t looking at him. It occurred to him that Derek was doing it on purpose.

“Of course I do,” he answered, still looking at Scott. “Like I said, I’ll let you know if it winds up being anything bigger than just some rogue alpha.”

“So then it’s settled!” Stiles declared. “We’ll stay out of it and let Derek do his thing.” He punctuated his sentence with a big yawn before settling his face back onto Griffin’s raven hair.

Scott definitely didn’t look happy about it, but he finally relented with a huff and a begrudging nod. Kira reached up and brushed a hand over his hair soothingly.

Stiles’ words were final and the discussion was over just like that. Malia took the opportunity to inform everyone that she needed to go outside before fleeing the loft and Lydia glided after her. She threw Isaac a glare over her shoulder as she walked out the door and he stood and followed her obediently.

The conversation had left Stiles feeling even groggier and exhausted than before. That said a lot because he hadn’t thought it was possible. He merely sat on the arm rest, slumped limply onto Griffin, unable to move. A wave of lazy contentment washed over him and he could himself slipping under. He fought against it as hard as he could, but the edges of his consciousness were smudging and he was floating on air.

“Are you okay?” Scott was concerned about his lethargic friend. Stiles’ only response was to blink slowly and mumble something incoherent into Griffin’s hair, so Griffin answered for him.

“He’s falling asleep,” he stated simply. Stiles scrunched up his face.

“No ’m not,” he argued dejectedly, blinking very slowly again.

“Yes, you are,” Griffin assured him.

“Nope.” Stiles tried to shake his head, but it was more of a tiny jerk of his chin than anything else. “’m tired, but ’ll stay ‘wake.” He blinked again, eyes lingering shut much longer than necessary before he pulled them open again.

“No you won’t.” Griffin smirked at him, knowing he was done for.

“Uh… think I ‘ave… control… over what… m’ own…” He didn’t even finish the sentence before he was out. He’d blinked halfway through it and his eyes didn’t open again. Scott chuckled at him as his entire body sagged against Griffin, head lolling forward and nearly slipping off where he had his cheek smashed into his scalp.

Griffin reached carefully around the witch, lifting him and gently repositioning his body so that he was laying on the couch with his head in Griffin’s lap.

Danny chuckled at the pair of them. “So Griffin,” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Why’s Stiles so tired?”

Griffin laughed at Danny’s implication, but otherwise chose to ignore it.

“It’s because he’s been using so much magic today. It zapped the energy right out of him.”

“Among other things…” Danny finished for him.

Griffin didn’t deny it, merely shrugging while Scott groaned in misery and Kira giggled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reducite beluae: Release the beast within.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Dee starts to give Stiles and Aniyah some practice in potionmaking and Maddie makes up a bunch of stuff that actually makes sense.
> 
> Average length chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long waits after having posted so rapidly before. I'm almost finished, I just haven't been able to write as much lately cause the new baby is taking up all my free time and when he goes home somebody else is always hogging the computer (or it takes 6 fucking hours to restart after an update thanks a fucking lot Windows 8 you piece of shit). Then to make matters worse, I sold my laptop a few months ago and the editing software on my phone I'd been using is acting up. Otherwise ya'll would have had this chapter last Friday.
> 
> So sorry guys. Just stick with me for a little while longer to finish up then I can ~~work on the next~~ torture you while you wait for the next installment.

Chapter Break (Sunday)

Aniyah had been fascinated by the books on potions they’d been given and couldn’t wait to try some of them out in Aunt Dee’s basement. It was a lot like chemistry and she loved chemistry. She’d spent a long time reading about the different types of ingredients, their effects, and the kinds of reactions they produced when mixed. She’d found it all to be so fascinating.

The fact that it totally made her think of doing potions in Professor Snape’s class at Hogwarts had absolutely nothing to do with it. And if she’d dressed up that day in mostly black and yellow then it was completely subconscious and totally not on purpose. Those weren’t her house colors or anything. She wasn’t a Hufflepuff or anything like that. Because Hogwarts isn’t real, that’s why. Nope.

Stiles, on the other hand, had read through the first book as instructed, but didn’t even bother with the second. Potions seemed interesting enough. He just didn’t think he needed to bother with the extracurriculars once he’d covered the basics. Especially considering he had a host of other books to read already.

Griffin was noticeably MIA for this lesson. Considering it was in Aunt Dee’s lair so she needed no assistance getting around or maneuvering things, Stiles supposed it made sense. He would have liked for him to be there anyways. He knew Griffin wasn’t into any of the magical stuff and still wasn’t 100% happy about the fact that Stiles was a witch. Still, it would have been nice if his supportiveness had been more genuine and less of him just trying to be polite and indulging Stiles. Stiles was really excited about all of this and it would have been great to share it with someone. Certainly Aniyah was as excited about it as him, possibly more if he thought about it. But Griffin was supposed to be his boyfriend. Maybe he just wanted to share it with him.

The first thing Aunt Dee did was to ask them to identify all the plants she had in the room and to name at least one of their magical properties. It wasn’t until then that Stiles noticed exactly how many plants she had in there. He never really stopped to consider them. Now as he looked around the room, it was apparent that she had more than 50.

He was able to name all of them easily, having remembered them from the book he read. Aniyah had a little trouble naming all of them, but once she was told the name, she could recite a whole list of their magical properties. Whereas Stiles could only recall one or two for about half of them. At the end, Aunt Dee threw in a pair of curveballs. She opened a cabinet and pulled out 2 tall jars, each containing long stalks of a different kind of purple flower.

Stiles immediately recognized the one as being wolfsbane, but didn’t know the other. At first he assumed it was another strain of wolfsbane, but was incorrect. After examining it for a while, Aniyah deduced that it was vervain. It had healing qualities and could be used in lots of potions and remedies. Alternatively, it was poisonous to vampires, burning them on contact. Inhaling it could weaken or completely nullify their abilities, and ingesting it could kill them.

“Very good, Aniyah,” Aunt Dee smiled at her. “Would either of you like to guess why I keep them together?” Neither of them had a clue and expressed as much. “Wolfsbane and vervain are complete and total opposites. It’s something that is very rare. Though neither plant is, each containing around two hundred and fifty species in their genus.” She placed them both on the table and carefully removed a stalk of each. “Scientifically, they have no more or less in common than any two purple plants selected at random. However from a supernatural standpoint, all of their qualities act as an opposing force to the other.”

“How do you mean?” Stiles asked, curious about the vervain.

“Think of them as a negative and a positive.” She lifted the wolfsbane and vervain respectively. “For example, to a human wolfsbane is a poison whereas vervain has healing properties. There are a host of occurrences of that nature. The most prevalent of which being that wolfsbane can harm or kill a werewolf, while having quite the opposite effect upon a vampire.”

Aniyah scoffed. “What’s the opposite of death?” She quirked an eyebrow at the elder witch.

“The right strains of it can induce speedier healing, and if ingested it causes a feeling of intoxication. The same is true of vervain for werewolves.”

“Hold on a second,” Stiles grinned evilly at the vervain. “So you’re trying to tell me I can get the werewolves drunk off this stuff?” He reached for it, already formulating a plot for doing so, but Aunt Dee smacked his hand out of the way, waving it around a bit to make sure he wasn’t trying to come in from another side.

“Yes, Stiles. Although I would advise against it. You and your friends are too young to be bothering with that stuff.”

“That’s not talking me out of it,” he warned through a smile. “In fact, you’re just convincing me more.” He was imagining drunk Scott and Griffin giggling and swaying, clinging to each other as they stumbled around his living room and knocking things over. Oh god! Drunk Derek! He would turn that grumpy cat frown upside down so fast. Yes! Stiles had to get his hands on some vervain!

“But wait,” Aniyah frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it. Why werewolves and vampires?”

Aunt Dee smiled at her question as if she’d been waiting for it. “Because werewolves and vampires are opposites as well.” She rapped her knuckles on the table, drawing both of their attentions toward it, then she pointed straight up at the roof. Aniyah and Stiles tilted their heads up in unison to see what she was pointing at.

It appeared to be a giant rune painted with thick black strokes. At first Stiles thought it looked like a warped and decorative biohazard symbol, but upon closer examination, it was much more complex and multilayered than that. In fact, it looked like an elaborate triskele.

“What is that? Aniyah asked,” completely unfamiliar.

“It’s a triskele, right?” Stiles asked.

Aunt Dee nodded. “Not the standard triskelion either,” she explained. “I assume the one that you’re familiar with Stiles is the basic Celtic one with three spirals.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Alpha, Beta, Omega.” He recited the meaning he’d been told for it.

“Yes, that’s one of the meanings. It can mean lots of different things. What do you think this one means?” She pointed at the roof again.

Stiles took a long look at it but shrugged, coming up with nothing. “I’ve got no clue.”

“Witch. Werewolf. Vampire,” Aunt Dee informed them.

“Why those three?” Aniyah questioned.

“They represent the 3 primary types of supernatural creatures. Spellcasters, shapeshifters, and flesheaters. Certainly there are those that fall into more than one category and there are even a few species that seem not to fall into any of them. But most supernatural beings fall into the spectrum somewhere between those three.”

“Why choose witches, werewolves, and vampires as the representation?” Stiles asked.

“Because they are all three perfect opposites.” Aunt Dee raised two fingers in the air, fingertips touching to form a point. “A witch’s magic can kill a werewolf or a vampire,” she separated the 2 fingers, pulling them in the shape of an upside down v. “The bite of a vampire can kill a werewolf or a witch and the bite of a werewolf can kill a witch or a vampire.” Each finger retraced a complete triangle going in different directions and making her cross and uncross her arms. The move was so practiced that she formed the shape perfectly, lack of eyesight not hindering her a bit. “Alternatively, the bite of a werewolf can cure a vampire. The bite of a vampire can cure a werewolf. And the bite of both simultaneously can cure a spark.” She drew another triangle, starting with her arms crossed, uncrossing them along the bottom, and then drawing both fingers up to a point at the top.

“WHAT!?” Stiles shouted, making Aniyah flinch and rattling Aunt Dee’s bookshelves. The bite of a vampire could cure a werewolf? That was fucking news to him! What the hell would Scott do with that information?

“There are certain restrictions to it,” Aunt Dee warned. “Each of these methods is only effective before they reach their full potential. So before a wolf’s first full moon, before a vampire takes their first drink of human blood, and before a potential witch has ignited their spark.”

“What about if they were born that way?”

“It wouldn’t work on a born werewolf. There is no such thing as a born vampire, they do not procreate that way. And witches are rarely born, so there is no proof of whether it works or not. Although evidence suggests it varies.”

Stiles was at a loss for words, which never really happened when he had the energy to actually form them. He supposed that meant it was all moot now, but this whole time they’d been operating under the belief that Derek had stolen something away from Scott. That he would never be able to change back to a human. In reality, the opportunity had slipped right by him while he went to a party with Allison.

Scott had wanted to become a human so much back then. Stiles genuinely had no idea if he still felt that way. He didn’t know if he should tell Scott about this or not. It wouldn’t change anything now. The only difference it could make is that it might give Scott something to feel bad about. Stiles didn’t want to do that.

So no. He wasn’t going to tell him. There was no point.

While Stiles thought all of this through, the gears in Aniyah’s head were turning too, but to a differed end.

“So,” she asked. “How does the sanguine red beryl connect to the wolfsbane and the vervain?”

“Clever girl,” Aunt Dee praised her analytical leap. “Sanguine red beryl is created from a complicated blood magic spell being put upon a mixture of wolfsbane and vervain that’s been liquefied and used to soak a silver or gold chain.

“The blood makes its magical properties only effective on the specific witch it’s been created for. However a red beryl is an actual gemstone and from a scientific standpoint, there is no difference between a sanguine one and a natural one. A natural red beryl is able to weaken or nullify the abilities of any witch at all. Fortunately for witches they are extremely rare.

“They weren’t even discovered until the seventies and can only be found in Utah. They are much more valuable than diamonds. In fact, Stiles you should take very good care of that bracelet because it’s technically worth eighty thousand dollars.” Stiles gagged and screeched at the same time, clutching at his wrist from under his sweater sleeve, but Aunt Dee kept talking.

“The dust of a crushed red beryl can also counteract the damage inflicted on a werewolf or vampire from wolfsbane and vervain respectively. Although this method is rarely used due to the extreme care and caution that tends to be used with red beryls. A witch wouldn’t just crush one easily and they’re a bitch to get one’s hands on any other way.

“Understanding how these things relate to each other is key to advanced potionmaking and understanding how the three types of supernaturals relate to each other is key to advanced magic.” Aunt Dee smiled and waved a finger at the two witchlings. “But for today, we’re going to stick with the basics.” She nudged the two jars toward Stiles and gestured for him to put them back into the cabinet. “Now, let’s get back onto the topic of plants and their magical qualities.” She directed Aniyah to a shelf on the opposite wall to fetch a cauldron, a cutting board, and a knife.

Stiles came around the table and brought the two plants back to their shelf in the cabinet, making sure the bumps on the lids matched the ones on the labels beneath.

“Hmm,” Stiles smirked at a mason jar he saw tucked into the corner of the cabinet, hidden behind one much taller. “So Aunt Dee,” he asked impishly. “What would you say were the magical qualities of the stuff in this jar crammed way in the back on the right side?”

Immediately knowing what he was talking about, Aunt Dee waved an arm and slammed the doors shut, making Stiles leap backward to avoid smashing his hand. “That’s my glaucoma medicine. Now mind your business…”

“But I thought witches were imperv-” She cut him off with a loud shush and a wave of her hand, but Stiles just laughed at her. “I’m just saying… You should give me a call the next time your ‘glaucoma’ acts up, though.” He used finger quotes despite the fact she couldn’t see them. “Maybe I can help you _figure something out_.”

“Oh hush child.” She waved him off again. “Go over there and get a cauldron and a cutting board.” He crossed the room obediently, still chuckling at her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally magic happens. Well, okay potions happen. Among other things.
> 
> (Ordinary length)

Chapter Break

Aunt Dee plucked the two books that were sitting by the edge of the table and handed one to the each of them. She told them to find a potion entitled "Oblita." It was a basic level forgetfulness potion that shouldn’t have caused them any trouble. The books were not identical so Aniyah found hers quickly in the front while Stiles flipped through until he found his more toward the middle of a smaller book.

They were instructed to make the potion. It had ten ingredients, and would take 2 hours to brew. Aunt Dee promised that all the ingredients were in the room, but it was up to them to find them and measure them properly. It was mostly plants, with only a few strange ingredients like the tears of a unicorn and something that Stiles could have sworn he’d read on the back of a Splenda label but was red and the consistency of chewed gum. So the pair spent a while wandering around the room trimming leaves and digging through shelves.

When Aniyah came across a gallon jug labeled “Unicorn Tears,” she gasped in sadness. Poor unicorn. Once Aunt Dee assured her that the unicorn she’d extracted the tears from was _not_ clinically depressed, Stiles began to laugh evilly as he thought of all the mean things Aunt Dee must have done to the thing to get it to cry. She insisted she only spoke to it, and he laughed even more. That was definitely worse. Aniyah started to scold her for being rude to such a wonderful and majestic creature, but Aunt Dee seemed unfazed by it. Whatever. That guy was an asshole. She assured Aniyah that he deserved it.

The entire potionmaking process was straightforward and simple enough. Stiles found himself bored of it rather quickly, much like in chemistry class. Aniyah, on the other hand, was very into her work. She kept flipping through the book as well as a few more that she’d snagged off the shelves, cross referencing them and making notes in a composition notebook that she’d brought along. Every now and then she would make a small thoughtful gasp or agreeable hum. Stiles wasn’t sure if she even knew she was doing it.

He’d gotten all of his ingredients together and was just waiting for the mix to brew over the electric burner he’d plugged in. So he decided to follow Aniyah’s lead and poke around some of Aunt Dee’s books as well. They didn’t seem to be in any kind of discernible order so he wondered how she ever managed to find anything. He glanced over to where she was. She had been meandering through the plants they’d just named, watering them and whispering to some. Currently she was standing in front of the one with a giant bud that had coughed a green cloud onto Griffin before, spoon feeding it some strange red mixture that she’d pulled out of a drawer.

It was a testament to how fucking weird his life was that watching a blind witch feed a giant flower while his friend brewed potions wasn’t even alarming.

He brushed the thought off as he ran a hand over a thick black book. It didn’t have a written title on the spine, it only had the braille one. He almost skipped over it, but the spine also bore an embossed golden rune. Stiles recognized it as one of the ones he’d carved into the Nemeton. If he remembered correctly, it meant something along the lines of “God speed.” He tugged it off the shelf and stroked a hand over the cover. It had no title either, just more braille and the rune again, much bigger.

He brought it back to the table, near enough to his cauldron to keep an eye on it, but a seat away so he wouldn’t disturb it with any untimely clumsiness. He noticed that the pages had braille inset against the printed letters. It was a little distracting, but he could still read it without having to strain.

The title page named the book “Runology and Symbology” with no listed authors. It talked about characteristics of a rune and how the different strokes and shapes were used to decipher the meaning and even the origin of an individual rune. It explained how to group them together and how to use them for spellwork. It went into great detail and Stiles quickly found himself engrossed in it.

With his book, the timer ran down quickly. When the 2 hour mark rolled along, Stiles found himself not wanting to put the book down. He set it aside to complete the last few steps for the potion then poured the final product into a clear test tube. It wasn’t much. The long brewing time burned off the majority of the liquid so that he was left with just over a table spoon. He stuffed a cork into it then hunted down a marker to draw the rune for “sealed shut” on the top. He tugged on it to test it and smirked when it wouldn’t budge, pocketing the marker.

Across the table, Aniyah poured her potion into a beaker and left it for a moment, blowing the steam away as it wafted upward. Frowning, he checked the directions. It didn’t say to do that. He wondered why she did. Now that he thought about it, he’d noticed her doing a few things that weren’t in the directions earlier. For example, she’d stirred hers while it was brewing. She’d also waited until the potion had started to boil before adding the unicorn tears. The recipe had called for 4 peppermint leaves. While Stiles put them in whole and they had no problem dissolving into his brew, Aniyah tore hers into small pieces first. None of those things were in the book.

Well, Stiles had followed all the steps and his potion seemed right according to the description he’d read. Maybe her book had more specific directions. He hoped he didn’t mess his up.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked her.

“Huh?” Aniyah glanced up at him. “Oh, well I removed it from the cauldron because it was still warm and I wanted the potion to cool down. Then I put it in there,” she gestured to the beaker, “because the larger surface area would make it cool faster.” She grabbed her funnel and poured her potion into a beaker identical to Stiles’, stoppering it with a satisfied smile.

“All finished?” Aunt Dee asked airily, cutting off the story she had been telling her overgrown spearmint plant, midsentence.

“Yup,” Stiles informed her, not feeling as sure as he sounded. “How do we know if we did it right?”

“Well, what color is it?” Aunt Dee clipped a sprig of leaves off the spearmint, waving it around as she turned to face them.

“Mine’s like… a burgundy-ish,” Stiles squinted at his tube of potion pensively. “Yeah, definitely burgundy.”

“Mine’s more like maroon,” Aniyah informed Aunt Dee, waving her own in front of her face. Indeed it was just the faintest shade darker than Stiles’ with just a touch of purple undertones.

“Then, they both seem fine,” Aunt Dee nodded at them. “The maroon is more desired, but the burgundy isn’t wrong. Maroon simply means Aniyah’s might taste a little better. Both potions should be equally potent. However, there _is_ only one way to find out.”

Aniyah and Stiles looked at each other questioningly.

“So we should try them?” Stiles asked.

“Or should we try each other’s?” Aniyah. “I remember reading that you should never test a potion on yourself.” Stiles hadn’t read that one.

“That’s very good,” Aunt Dee smiled at the girl. “However,” her smile turned a little evil. “Don’t you think it would be more fun to try them out on your friends?”

Their potions had finished just in time for Griffin to come down the stairs and announce that Lauren was about half a mile away. He had forgotten to give her a call and tell her not to come for the afternoon.

Aunt Dee decided that made it a perfect time to pack up for the day. Potions was a pretty straightforward process. It mostly involved knowing the ingredients and following directions, something they were both quite capable with. Neither of them had to ask any questions and they both brewed their potions correctly, so there wasn’t much else she could teach them that they couldn’t teach themselves. Aunt Dee would mainly just serve as a source of ingredients until they figured out how to get their hands on some of the more uncommon stuff and as a place to practice.

Before they left, Stiles asked if he could borrow the black book on runes he’d found. Aunt Dee, smirked knowingly then told him to keep it. Despite being in braille, it was useless to her anyways. Technically all of her books on runes were. She said he could have them all. Griffin opened his mouth to argue about Aunt Dee giving away _his_ books, but he stopped when he saw how happy it made Stiles. He decided to let it slide. In all honesty, that Aunt Dee had them meant he’d likely never read them anyways and they certainly weren’t about to be back in his library any time soon. He doubted he’d miss them.

Stiles shot Scott a text to inform him that they had the rest of the afternoon free and that single text quickly launched them into a plan of bringing Aniyah to meet everyone. So 30 minutes later, Aniyah, Stiles, and Griffin found themselves in a coffee shop, warming their fingers on hot chocolate, coffee, and tea respectively and waiting for the rest of Stiles’ pack to show up.

Sitting between Aniyah and Griffin, Stiles felt himself extremely confused emotionally. He’d barely felt anything amiss when he was with the 2 other witches, but 1 other witch and a werewolf did nothing to balance him out. So he found himself feeling all of Aniyah’s anxiety at meeting new people while simultaneously feeling Griffin’s calm confidence and general sense of superiority.

Stiles had never noticed it because he’s good at masking his emotions, but Griffin’s really arrogant. He’s Jackson Whittemore levels of arrogant, if Stiles is any good at guessing. But without a witch’s sensitivity to emotions, it’s impossible to tell.

Griffin keeps a lot of shit internalized.

Lydia was the first to arrive, flouncing in and ordering some complicated drink with a pretentiously long name that was in at least 3 different languages. After paying, she looked over her shoulder and frowned at what she saw. Or didn’t see. Sighing in irritation, she walked back out the door and came back in 20 seconds later tugging a grumpy looking Malia behind her by the hand. She ordered Malia a regular black tea with lemon then dragged her over to the table to greet the others.

As Malia sat down, she forewent any greetings to inform Stiles that Lydia was evil and she hated shoes and she was going to bite someone again and Lydia was definitely evil.

“Lydia’s evil?” Stiles laughed. “So what else is new?” Lydia threw him a glare that was definitely not demonic in any way shape or form, and Stiles flinched at it a little. “Okay,” he conceded. “You’re only like thirty percent evil.” When her glare didn’t let up, he tried to plead his case. “Hey, that’s down from the original sixty.” He howled when she kicked him under the table. “Not helping your case,” he teased, scrunching his face up in an exaggerated wince.

Beside him, Stiles could feel a spike of possessive rage flare up in Griffin when Lydia kicked him. Griffin hadn’t so much as blinked or flared his nostrils, but all of a sudden he was pissed. On Stiles’ other side, he could feel a significantly smaller spike of jealousy from Aniyah. He imagined it was directed at Lydia who was radiating an unsurprising smug satisfaction, with hints of irritation and amusement. Beside her, Malia was mostly frustrated and a bit longingly sad, but Stiles couldn’t tell about what.

Stiles interrupted his interpreting of emotions to introduce Aniyah to the 2 newcomers. Right as he finished, Scott and Kira came in holding hands. They ordered simple drinks and came right over for more introductions. It was starting to get a little harder to tell but both Kira and Scott felt energetic and cheerful, and just the slightest bit horny after the dirt bike ride over here. That was definitely a tidbit of information Stiles could have gone without.

Scott informed them that Derek would not be joining them and Stiles thought he felt a small wave of pleasant satisfaction from Griffin. Hm. Griffin _really_ doesn’t like Derek. Stiles turned to glare at Griffin, feeling offended. Griffin turned his body toward Stiles to match his gaze, making their forearms press against each other and as Stiles looked into his eyes, he wasn’t irritated anymore. He really cared about Griffin. What difference did it make how he felt about Derek?

Griffin winked at him and he could practically hear a gunshot rip through his stomach as his insides spilled onto the floor under the table. He kinda wanted to grab Griffin by his ridiculous hipster hair and push him over onto the floor so he could straddle him. Yes, he definitely wanted to do that.

Stiles was interrupted from his thoughts of what he would do to Griffin on the coffee shop floor by Scott smacking his shoulder.

“Stop that!” Scott ordered, half smiling and half completely fucking serious. Stiles laughed at him.

“ _You_ stop it,” he retorted. “You’re doing it too!” He pointed at Scott and Kira with 2 fingers on the same hand. “Both of you.”

The banter continued on that way. It was easy for Aniyah to fall into step with their joking and repartee. She was a little reserved and didn’t contribute a whole lot conversation wise, but they always included her. Between Scott, Stiles, and Griffin, there wasn’t a single moment for her to feel like she was being awkward.

Through it all, Aniyah could sense that Lydia was ignoring her. She felt haughty and a little scornful, but Aniyah couldn’t even begin to determine why. She had no idea what she’d done to the girl. She could also tell that Malia was devastatingly naïve and desperately in love with Lydia. Every time she looked at Lydia she was filled with fond exasperation, an almost worshipping admiration, and the lonely pang of unrequited love that Aniyah was all too familiar with. Whenever Malia focused on anything else she had a constant thin layer of confusion and lack of familiarity mixed in with whatever else she was feeling.

This whole group was mixed up and confusing, but Aniyah liked them. Most of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oblita - I Have Forgotten


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Aniyah test out their potions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait. December just kicked my ass as far as taking time away from my precious computer. I'm almost done, I swear! Don't give up on me.
> 
> Here! Take 9 pages of filler to make up for it.

Chapter Break

Scott finally broke and asked Stiles about his potions lesson. Aniyah winced when he asked. Stiles had already told her that they knew about his magic, but he didn’t say they knew about hers. She still couldn’t decide if she had a problem with him just telling people or not, no matter how much he swore they would have found out anyways.

Stiles told the group about the potion they made, neglecting to mention what exactly it was for. He even took out his test tube and passed it around, asking who wanted to try it out and beckoning Aniyah to do the same. Scott bravely volunteered, telling Kira to take care of his mother if they killed him. He attempted to open Stiles’ but couldn’t. He even threw a little werewolf strength in there, but just couldn’t uncork the bottle. Frustrated, he traded it for Aniyah’s and opened hers easily.

Stiles reached into his pocket and withdrew the marker he snagged from Aunt Dee. He drew a single thick line across the rune on his cork, nullifying its power. Then he easily tugged the cork out, laying it on the table.

Seeing his work with the cork, Lydia volunteered as well, interest piqued. “Why not?” she asked rhetorically. “I’m curious to see how good Stiles is at this whole witch thing.”

Stiles cheered quietly, reaching over to take her drink while Aniyah poured some of her potion into Scott’s.

“What’s it called?” Lydia quirked an eyebrow at the fragrant burgundy liquid as Stiles spilled just a few drops into the remainder of her soy mocha-frappe-latte-whatthehellever-ccino thing.

“Uh…” Stiles tried to remember the Latin name for it. “It’s called…”

“I forgot,” Aniyah supplied helpfully. “But it’s in Latin.”

Misunderstanding, Lydia rolled her eyes and scoffed at the blonde witch. “Well, aren’t you just so _useful,_ _”_ she snarked. “Do you at least know what it does?”

Aniyah narrowed her eyes at the genius’ attitude, deciding to tease her a little and just run with her misinterpretation.

“Aunt Dee never told us. She just told us to make it.” That wasn’t a lie, so none of the wolves picked up on anything. However Griffin looked as if he knew exactly where she was going with this. Smirking a little, he put a hand on Stiles’ elbow, drawing his attention.

“I think you might need to use a little more,” he suggested innocently. “For Lydia.” At first, Stiles seemed skeptical of the idea, but when he looked up and caught Griffin’s hypnotic gaze reflecting every shade of green in the color wheel right back at him, he immediately forgot why that wouldn’t be the best idea.

“Yeah,” he said a little lost sounding.

“You know, because…” Griffin started.

“Because she’s so smart,” he finished. Griffin nodded at Stiles in agreement, as if it hadn’t been his idea. “Yeah, the normal amount might not be enough.” He reached his hand back over and dumped the whole thing into her drink, snatching her spoon and stirring it.

He gave her the drink back and she eyed it warily. Scott reached across the table for a cheers and they clinked their cups together.

“Bottoms up,” Stiles drummed the table enthusiastically.

At first nothing happened. Lydia made a face and pursed her lips at the bitter taste that Stiles’ potion left behind in her drink.

“So…” she asked impatiently. “What’s supposed to happen?”

“Just wait for it,” Aniyah smiled at her a little maliciously.

“Wait for what?” Lydia asked, confusion written plain on her face.

“Wait for the effects of the potion,” Kira told her, raising her eyebrows.

“What potion?”

Malia frowned at her. “The one you just drank.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just drank the potion Stiles made,” Kira tried to tell her.

“Stiles made a potion?” Lydia looked surprised. “What’s it called?”

Griffin snickered and Aniyah flashed her teeth at Lydia. “The potion,” she explained, “is called ‘I Forgot.’”

“A forgetfulness potion?” Lydia mused. Aniyah nodded at her, enjoying this maybe a little too much. “Well where is it?”

“You drank it.”

“When?” Lydia was getting annoyed. She didn’t like not being the most informed one in the room. It was an uncommon occurrence.

Kira scoffed. “Just now!”

Scott whipped his head around, looking at Kira like he had never seen her before in his life.

“Who are you?” he asked. She laughed.

“I’m Kira,” she told him. “Your girlfriend!”

“Really?” Scott looked surprised for a moment, then he looked very proud of himself. “You’re really pretty.”

“Thank you.” Kira leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Scott turned red as an apple, grinning a huge smile like a happy puppy, turning away shyly. When he turned he spotted Griffin and jumped a little.

“Whoa, who are you?” He looked around nervously. “I’m not dating you too, am I?”

Stiles choked on the coffee he was sipping. “No, Scott! _I_ _’_ _m_ dating him!”

“Really?” Scott looked affronted by the idea. “What about D-”

“Yes really!” Stiles spoke over him.

“But he’s not D-”

“I know he’s not _Lydia_!” Stiles gritted through his teeth, giving Scott the stink eye.

“Who’s not Lydia?” Lydia cut in.

“Griffin’s not Lydia,” Malia told her, wincing. Though it was kind of nice for her not to be the confused one for once, having it be Lydia was just plain weird.

“Who’s Griffin?” Malia pointed at him. “Oh,” Lydia frowned as she stored the information away. Kind of. “Who’s Lydia,” she asked.

Aniyah couldn’t hold back her laugh at that. “ _You_ _’_ _re_ Lydia!”

“I am?” She tossed her hair over her shoulder haughtily. “I don’t think so. I would know if I was,” she said matter of factly.

“But you _are_ Lydia,” Malia told her.

Lydia shot a glare at her. “No,” she snapped. “I am not-” She winced as she thought for a moment, drawing a blank. “I am not the person you were talking about.”

Stiles giggled. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Forgot what?”

“Dude, what’s wrong with Lydia?” Scott asked Stiles. “Wait, why is she even talking to us? Where’s Jackson?” He looked over both his shoulders, paranoid that the lacrosse captain would come and beat them up or something.

“He’s in London! You know that.” Danny looked at Scott questioningly as he approached the table, pulling a miserable looking Isaac by the wrist behind him.

“Who’s in London?” Lydia asked, watching as Danny pulled a chair up to the table and directed Isaac to sit.

“Jackson’s in London,” Danny repeated.

“Who’s Jackson?”

Danny looked at her like she was nuts. He glanced around the table and saw everyone smiling. “Stiles, what’d you do?”

“Wha-” Stiles sputtered. “How do you automatically assume _I_ _’_ _m_ the culprit?”

“When are you ever _not_ the culprit?” He ignored Stiles’ flailing and attempts to defend himself, instead looking to Scott. “What’d he do?”

“I don’t remember. Actually…” Scott looked around the room again. “I don’t remember how I got here.” He leaned toward Kira to ask her conspiratorially, “Did you bring me here?”

“No,” Kira giggled. “You brought me.”

“My mom let me borrow her car? I thought I was grounded.” He looked really happy about not being grounded.

“No silly,” Kira teased. “You brought me on the back of your dirt bike.”

“I have a dirt bike?” Scott nearly shouted, ecstatic. “That’s so cool!”

“What’s cool?” Lydia asked.

“I got a dirt bike!”

“Oh…” She twirled a finger through her hair, absently. “What’s a dirt bike, again?”

Stiles chuckled quietly at her. “It’s like a motorcycle,” he explained slowly, as if she were a small child. “But lighter, so you can race and do tricks on it.” He might have been relishing a little bit at a stupid Lydia. Don’t get him wrong, he loved the banshee (as a friend now and not at all in a creepy stalker-like way… anymore), but this was just fun.

“Right,” Lydia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I knew that.”

“Of course you did.” Stiles flashed her a big patronizing grin, which she scowled at.

“Did what?” she snapped.

“Know what a dirt bike was.”

“Who has a dirt bike?”

Malia couldn’t take her eyes off of Lydia. She felt like she was in the twilight zone. Lydia was always so collected and focused, seemingly knowing everything. Seeing her looking lost and appearing dazed as every piece of knowledge she had slipped out of her head was such a strange experience. “I can’t- how do I-” she stammered, frowning at the strawberry blonde. Lydia turned to her, glaring as if she’d never seen her before. “I just can’t take you like this…”

“Who are you again?”

Malia frowned at her, whimpering a little, not sure how to react to all this while a few seats away Danny busted out laughing.

“This is incredible,” he crooned before turning on Stiles again. “ _What the hell did you do to them_?”

Stiles looked up at Danny innocently. “I just gave them a little forgetfulness potion. No big deal.”

“What?” Danny half screeched in outrage, half laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Well,” Aniyah cut in, introducing herself. “Scott’s technically my fault. He drank my potion.”

Beside Danny, Isaac remained silent but was eyeing Scott curiously. He appeared more invested in this conversation than he had in _anything_ for the past month. Scott caught him looking and flashed him another huge puppy grin.

“I know you!” he sang. “I’d know those curls anywhere. You’re Isaac Lahey. You’re on the lacrosse team. You’re pretty good!” Isaac nodded, smiling sheepishly. He opened his mouth to say something in return, but whatever it was got cut off by Danny flinging his arm toward Scott in a very Stiles-esque gesture.

“So what?” he asked. “Scott got his memory cut off after what? Like last year? And Lydia just can’t remember anything?”

Griffin smiled at Danny a little too smugly. “Stiles gave Lydia more,” he explained.

“Hey you!” Lydia said angrily, pointing in Stiles’ general direction.

“Me?” Stiles asked, pointing to himself.

“No,” Lydia clarified snappily. “The one next to you.”

“Aniyah?” he pointed to the petite platinum blonde.

“No!” Lydia huffed in frustration. “The hot one! With the…” she stammered, snapping as she tried to find the word. “The… the…” giving up, she pointed at her face waving a finger frantically at her eyes.

“You mean me?” Griffin quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Yes, you.” Lydia pouted at him testily while Griffin waited patiently. “Um… Why-” she narrowed her eyes pensively. “What… how come…”

“You forgot what you were going to ask, didn’t you?” Griffin smiled at her toothily.

“No!” she threw him a glare, trying to cover for herself. “I just…” she sighed at him haughtily, turning around with a flip of her hair as if he no longer deserved her attention. “It’s not important.”

He just chuckled at her.

“So,” Danny asked, looking back and forth between the two witches. “How long is this going to last?”

Stiles shrugged. He had no idea. He didn’t remember reading that in the book. “It didn’t say.”

“It didn’t say?” Kira asked, worried. “They’re not going to be like this forever, are they?”

Griffin couldn’t help but to laugh at the horrified look on Malia’s face as she contemplated never having genius Lydia back.

“Well,” Aniyah mused aloud. She lifted a hand to her shoulder as if to stroke her hair, but having none there, she moved it over to rest a finger on her chin thoughtfully. “The primary magical ingredient was the unicorn tears. With unicorn tears as the base, anything potent enough to be permanent would have to be inhaled or injected ‘cause they just don’t last in the stomach.” Her eyes lifted to the ceiling as she pictured something far off, thoughtfully. “The amount we used should lose their effectiveness after about twenty or so minutes. However the peppermint leaves and the sucralose resin should be able to prolong it a while. We didn’t use a whole lot of peppermint, so not a long while.” She nodded to herself, coming back down to earth. “I’d say between thirty and forty five minutes. Anything much longer than that and we would have needed _way_ more peppermint.”

The rest of the table seemed to take her word for it (save for Lydia who was stuck on unicorns), but Stiles took a moment to look at Aniyah proudly. There she was, sounding like an expert already. He thought about the way she took the extra steps brewing the potion earlier and how it all seemed to come so naturally to her. He figured that potions work was going to be her specialization. He wondered briefly what his would be.

“Peppermint… unicorns?” Lydia asked curiously.

“No,” Aniyah corrected her, not unkindly. “Peppermint leaves and unicorn tears.”

“So… _sad_ peppermint unicorns?”

Aniyah scoffed. “Sure Lydia, whatever you say.”

“But why are they sad?”

“The unicorns?”

“What unicorns?”

“The peppermint unicorns…”

“What’s peppermint?”

Aniyah dropped her forehead to the table, resting it on her arm as she laughed, unable to answer any more questions with a straight face.

“So…” Scott cut in, looking at Malia. “Who are you? Are you Lydia’s girlfriend?” Malia blushed a little and shook her head, scoffing loudly. Beside her Lydia mused aloud what a girlfriend was. “Whoa!” Scott laughed nervously. “Your heart’s beating so fast. Are you okay?” Malia mumbled something about never really being sure, but Aniyah was stuck on something else.

“Did you just say you could _hear_ her heartbeat?” she asked, lifting her head off the table.

“Yeah. I can hear yours too.” Aniyah frowned at him. “See, it just skipped a beat then sped up really fast.”

“ _How_ can you hear my heartbeat?” she asked slowly, not sure if he was joking or not.

“I don’t know,” Scott looked around thoughtfully. “I can hear a lot of stuff. I can hear everyone’s heartbeats. It’s kind of annoying actually. I can hear coffee beans smashing in the back of the café somewhere, and somebody else is washing dishes. Someone has a flat tire down the street and is cussing at the tow truck driver. And there’s a squirrel snoring loudly while it’s hibernating in a tree at the park.”

Aniyah stared at him, mouth agape, trying to figure out the logistics of all this. Could it have been a weird side effect to their potions or was he just shitting them? There was no way he was _actually_ hearing all that stuff. At least not naturally. Right?

“You know,” Scott continued. “I can smell a lot of different stuff too. I’m not going to tell you what it all is, cause most of its actually kinda gross.”

“What’s gross?” Lydia asked.

“The smells,” he tried to tell her.

“What smells?”

“Everything does.”

“Everything where?”

“Everything here!”

“What’s here?” Lydia looked around the café for a moment, trying to find what he was talking about. After a moment, she gave a contemplative frown. “Where’s here?” she asked more to herself than anyone else.

Aniyah shook her head at the other girl’s cluelessness, jumping back into the conversation. “Wait, so you can hear and smell stuff?” She didn’t wait for him to nod. “How?”

“With his nose,” Lydia answered snippily. “Duh.” _That_ she remembered.

Aniyah ignored her. “But _how_? That’s impossible.”

“He’s a werewolf,” Griffin answered simply.

“He’s a _WHAT_?” Aniyah screeched loudly, making Scott flinch and getting everyone around the table to shush her. “He’s a freaking werewolf?” she whispered frantically.

“What’s a werewolf,” Lydia asked dazily. No one answered her. They were too busy shooting death glares at Griffin. They had mostly decided not to just tell Aniyah outright to avoid this exact reaction.

“What?” he asked innocently. “The conversation was headed that way anyways. I just expedited the process.”

“Griffin’s a werewolf too,” Stiles informed Aniyah, just to be annoying. “In fact, he’s an alpha. He really doesn’t like for people to know that.” Stiles could feel a wave of irritation rolling off of Griffin for just a moment.

Griffin shifted his legs beneath the table, making their legs touch and suddenly Stiles realized what a dick move that was. Sure she would have figured out he was a werewolf eventually, but the alpha thing would have had to be explained to her. She knew what an alpha was, thanks to Aunt Dee. So when he spotted Aniyah giving Griffin the side eye and leaning ever so slightly away from him, Stiles felt a tiny pang of guilt.

Griffin’s leg was heavy against his, so he shifted slightly so that they were no longer touching. Whatever. Griffin deserved it for outing Scott like that. That was a pretty dick move too.

Across the table, Scott looked sick. “I’m a werewolf?” he muttered to himself. “What am I gonna tell my mom?”

“Uh…” Aniyah spluttered. “You know that he could kill us, right?” she asked Stiles. He nodded at her. “And you’re _dating him_?” He just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. To him it wasn’t.

“I would never hurt Stiles,” Griffin stated. “I have complete control.”

Aniyah couldn’t help but notice that he said he wouldn’t hurt _Stiles_ , as opposed to he wouldn’t hurt _anyone_. She wasn’t sure if she was reading too much into it, but she didn’t find it comforting regardless.

“Besides,” Stiles continued. “Pretty much anyone at this table could kill us if they wanted to. Alpha or not.” Aniyah panicked a little at that.

“So wait, are you all werewolves?” She looked around the table, trying to assess everyone’s emotional reactions to the question. Their range of emotions were all over the spectrum so she wasn’t really picking up anything she could use to answer her question.

Everyone went around the table taking turns explaining to Aniyah what they were, taking a little extra time to explain what a kitsune was and what exactly a banshee did other than scream. Danny answered those questions for Lydia since he was the one she’d told the most about it and she was currently incapable of answering them himself.

The more they talked, the less Scott seemed to be shocked by the details they were revealing and the more he just agreed. Lydia began remembering the things people told her and stopped asking so many questions as well. Their memories were starting to return.

It was just in time as well. Right as Scott was starting to explain why they had no alpha despite the fact that Griffin was one, Stiles felt Griffin suddenly tense up beside him. He turned to see what his problem was and saw that he had a slightly awestruck and mystified look on his face. He was looking out the window and his eyes were tracking a figure that Stiles couldn’t make out clearly through the frosted glass.

“What-” he started to ask, but cut himself off as he realized the answer. He went over some of the meditation techniques that he’d learned from Aunt Dee in his head to calm himself down. He breathed deeply through his nose and let the air out through his mouth slowly as he mentally prepared himself to lie his ass to the moon and back. He just barely got a control on his heartbeat before Scott jerked his head up with an annoyed scowl, glaring daggers across the café at Peter Hale standing at the counter.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack is faced with Peter at the coffee shop. Later, Stiles has an epiphany of sorts. Kinda longish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years!
> 
> I finally got past the boring stuff and the end is so exciting. So the updates should be coming more regularly now. Unfortunately not 3 times a day like before though. Sorry.

Chapter Break

In the end, nothing happened. Not really.

Stiles whipped out his phone to shoot someone a text, but Peter mostly maintained his distance and ordered a coffee with a name nearly as pretentious as Lydia’s.

Aniyah noticed the sudden tension in the air and tried to feel around for who felt what. Scott and Lydia were both feeling equal parts irritated and exasperated. Almost like they were mad, but knew they really shouldn’t be. Danny and Kira felt as oblivious and curious as Aniyah did.

Malia was suddenly really focused on the hot chocolate she’d been letting get cold in front of her. She was a bundle of guilty nerves. Strange.

Isaac was really hard to figure out. Mostly he had been a vacuum of bored indifference, but there was another part of him that Aniyah had a hard time pinpointing with so many other emotions flying around her. If she were to guess, she would call it an overwhelming sense of depression and emptiness. But that may have also been coming from the girl sitting a table away who was staring longingly at her phone and crying into her Frappuccino. It was hard to tell with so many people in the room.

Stiles was peculiarly calm, but it was a forced calm. As if he were meditating or something. The whole thing was lined with a thin undercurrent of nerves and a sprinkle of fear. He was doing a good job of suppressing it, but she could still tell because he was right next to her, nearly touching.

Griffin was the real interesting one. He was staring after Peter with a wide eyed curiosity. He seemed enchanted by the man. Tuning into his emotions, it was the first time Aniyah had been in his presence where she didn’t detect even the tiniest hint of irritation. Typically, no matter how much he smiled and flirted, she could feel that he was always vaguely irritated. Never by anything specific as far as she could tell. She figured it was more of a ‘the world is full of plebes and they annoy me’ sense of arrogance.

This time, he felt completely astounded. He was giving off great deals of excitement and admiration, minor confusion, and a tad of well concealed panic. If Aniyah didn’t know any better, she might accuse him of fangirling. The way he was staring after the newcomer with huge green eyes and his mouth slightly agape definitely implied that he’d temporarily lost the ability to “can.”

“Um…” Aniyah reached nervously across Stiles to bring Griffin back down to earth. Stiles barely noticed, seemingly absorbed in his phone. She stuck a finger out toward the alpha, flinching back for a second in hesitation before poking him in the jaw. He snapped his mouth shut and turned to glare at her. She jerked her hand back and meeped loudly in surprise. She turned her eyes down to her lap, confidence dissolving under that ridiculously intense gaze. “Anybody want to tell me who that is?” She asked her pants quietly.

“That’s Peter Hale,” Scott said quietly.

“Somebody who shouldn’t be here,” Lydia huffed under her breath, flipping her hair over her shoulder and turning away as if this person who’d caused such a reaction wasn’t worth her attention.

Peter turned completely around and cast a simpering smile in their direction. “You wound me, Lydia,” he crooned, approaching their table. “Certainly I’m allowed to come into town for a nice latte, aren’t I?” He swept a long look over the table, lingering on the new faces of Aniyah, Danny, Kira and Malia. His eyes rested on Malia for a long moment, but she ignored him, continuing to examine her cold drink with tension in her shoulders. He gave her a strange look before turning over to Griffin, who had managed to school his face into a much more neutral expression by then.

Peter looked caught somewhat off guard by Griffin. “My my, what do we have here?” He regarded him curiously. “I’d know those eyes anywhere. A Panselinos? I thought you’d all been executed a few years ago.”

“Most of us were.” Griffin managed to get the words out without squealing. Aniyah was so proud of him. He’s much better at his control than she thought he was. He didn’t even react to the execution comment, which was a story she’d never heard herself. She would have to inquire about it later. “There are a few of us left,” he continued. “We thought the Hales had been killed off a while ago ourselves.”

“Most of us were,” Peter parroted. “You look familiar, have we met before?”

That time, Griffin definitely squealed. He covered it up by clearing his throat. It was convincing but Aniyah could tell by the spike of excitement that shot through him. Stiles must have felt it too because he finally looked up from his phone to give Griffin a wary look.

“Once,” Griffin admitted. “I was much younger.”

“Ah yes,” Peter nodded as he recalled. “You were the small one who liked to read books that were bigger than he was.”

Griffin smiled, internally overcome with glee. “That was definitely me.”

“Not so small anymore.” Peter smirked and gave Griffin an appreciative once over. Stiles winced at nothing in particular then cut into their conversation.

“Yes,” he agreed giving Peter a dirty look. “Much larger. Would you like a yard stick to measure, Zombiewolf? Or would you prefer a meter stick? You seem the type to prefer the metric system.”

“Oh I think I’d prefer to measure by feet,” Peter snarked back, throwing Stiles a sickly sweet smile in return. “That would be much easier for you to understand than centimeters anyways. I’m not entirely certain if you can count that high.”

“Oh, ha ha. Real funny. Why doesn’t it surprise me that you would prefer the imperial system?”

“If you’re trying to imply that I’m akin to royalty Stiles, then I’m not going to disagree with you.”

“Whoa, someone thinks highly of themselves. That’s rather rich coming from the guy who tucks tail and books it out of town every time there’s a serious threat. We have to drag you in by the skin of your teeth to get any help out of you. That is, of course when the serious threat _isn_ _’_ _t_ you. Are you worried you’ll chip a _royal_ nail?”

“I know how to pick my battles, that’s all. It’s definitely not worth chipping a nail over if nothing’s happening that I have a vested interest in.”

“A _vested interest_? Is that what you call being a self-serving ba-”

Scott cut their banter off by coughing loudly. “Uh… did you need something?” he asked Peter.

Interestingly enough, not only did Aniyah notice that Stiles and Peter were a little disappointed to be interrupted, but so was Griffin. Despite the fact that they were trading insults, it seemed that those two were quite enjoying themselves, and Griffin was _definitely_ enjoying watching them. She thought the three of them were so weird.

Peter cast his annoyed gaze upon Scott, barely concealing his irritation. “Like I said, I came for a latte. How was I supposed to know you, your human sidekick, and your lackeys would be here?” He gestured to Scott, Stiles, and the rest of the table respectively. “Not that I would let you drive me away from the best lattes in town regardless.”

He thought Stiles was still human, but he knew about werewolves, and apparently was one (either that or a… zombie?). Aniyah found that interesting, but Stiles made no move to correct him. Neither did anyone else, so she kept her mouth shut too.

Peter heaved a put upon sigh. “At any rate, I believe it’s time for me to go.” As if on cue, a voice called his name from behind the counter, indicating that his drink was ready. He forced a tight smile at the table as a whole—casting another significant look at Malia—before turning around to leave. “Oh, Stiles,” he said over his shoulder. “Do tell my nephew that I’m looking for him. I think he may be avoiding me.”

“If he’s going to the trouble of avoiding you, I think he already knows you’re looking for him,” Stiles muttered under his breath. Peter ignored him and kept walking.

Aniyah watched his retreating back, wondering about the awkward exchange between them all. She could feel the tension slowly starting to drain away, but it didn’t dissipate completely. It seemed the entire evening had been sullied by his presence. She really wanted to know what this guy did to them.

Griffin narrowed his eyes in the direction that Peter left before turning back to Stiles. “Is it problematic that I found that whole thing to be hot as hell?” Aniyah couldn’t help but to bark out a laugh. Stiles just rolled his eyes hard enough to drift across the county line, but otherwise ignored him, dropping his head back to his phone.

Kira looked over to Malia who was frowning confusedly at her cold chocolate. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Uh…” Malia appeared to be trying to pick her words as wisely as she could, but was at a loss as to what she was looking for. “I’m… fine,” she settled with.

“That just wasn’t what you were anticipating your first time meeting him?” Lydia offered.

“Definitely not,” Malia agreed. “I guess it could have been worse. It’s not like he did anything but snipe back and forth with Stiles.” She tried to force a smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Danny nodded, understanding. “It must still be weird though,” he sympathized.

Malia scoffed in agreement, finally just pushing her cup away from her. She was starting to get antsy, tapping her foot and scratching at her clothes—which it appeared suddenly seemed too tight. Lydia noticed her discomfort and chalked it up to the need to go for a run through the woods. Malia liked that idea well enough, but Aniyah couldn’t shake the feeling that Lydia was misinterpreting the source of her discomfort.

Isaac asked if he could go running too. Lydia seemed surprised to hear him speak but happily allowed him along. The 3 of them bid the rest of the group goodbye then headed for Lydia’s car.

Aniyah couldn’t help but wonder how it was that Isaac had made friends with them. He was so quiet and meek seeming, whereas everyone else seemed perfectly outspoken and had no problem bossing him around. He didn’t really seem like a good fit amongst the group. Perhaps he was only there because of his werewolf connection. There seemed to be plenty of concern for him amongst the others, she just couldn’t help but feel like there was a large part of the picture missing when she looked at him. They all had such a history together, she was certain that was exactly it.

Danny was the next to go, saying he would catch up to Lydia. She’d want someone to hang out with while the other 2 roamed the woods. Griffin offered to take Stiles and Aniyah back to their cars at his place and they left Scott and Kira by themselves.

The ride back in the car was mostly quiet save for a few jingles of Stiles’ text alert and the sound of him repeatedly picking up his phone then dropping it in the cup holder.

“So…” Aniyah cut through the silence that was just this side of awkward. “Anybody want to tell me what the deal is with Peter?”

“He’s Malia’s biological father,” Stiles explained, sticking a finger in his mouth thoughtfully. “She’s never met him before and she only just found out about him less than a week ago.”

Aniyah was shocked by that, but it did make sense in regards to her reaction to him. “What about Lydia, though?” she asked. “She said he didn’t belong there. What did that mean?”

Griffin answered this time. “Apparently he attacked her before. I think she just harbors some residual hatred for that.” That made sense as an answer for Aniyah, but the sudden spike in intrigue from Stiles indicated that wasn’t what he had been thinking.

“What’s that for?” she asked him. It took Stiles a minute of thinking to understand that she was referring to his sudden change in emotion.

“Oh,” he jumped at the realization, pausing as he gnawed at his finger. “It’s just that attacking Lydia isn’t the only terrible thing that Peter’s done, and it’s certainly not the only reason she has for hating him.”

“What else did he do?” Aniyah asked right as they pulled into Griffin’s driveway.

“Um, a lot…” Stiles was suddenly overcome with a great sense of urgency, like he was in a rush to do something very important. He pulled his hand from his mouth and clenched his fist pensively.

Aniyah chuckled at him. “Go ahead,” she told him. “Don’t let me hold you up. I’ll talk to you later, then.” She climbed out of the car. “Bye Griffin.” She smiled and waved before slamming the door shut and heading to her own car.

Stiles stared after Aniyah, distracted for a moment as he realized that he basically communicated telepathically with her.

He let the thought slip from his mind as he opened the door. “Is Lauren still here? I need to talk to Aunt Dee about something witch related.”

Griffin sighed a little disappointedly. “Lauren’s sleeping,” he answered, lingering behind in his seat.

Stiles frowned. “Is she allowed to do that?” he asked.

“Judging by the amount of melatonin and peppermint I can smell, I doubt she had much choice in the matter.”

“Good. I mean-” Stiles corrected himself. “Not good that Aunt Dee drugged Lauren, but good that I can talk to her.” Stiles had suddenly been struck with an idea to help with the Peter situation. It was thanks to Lydia that he thought of it. She’d said that Peter shouldn’t have been there. That was absolutely right. Not just in the sense that Lydia couldn’t stand him, either. But he honestly shouldn’t have been there at all. The only reason Peter was alive was because of the spell he had Lydia do to bring him back.

 _A spell_.

If he had been brought back by a spell, certainly there was a way to undue it.

Stiles knew deep down that—no matter how determined he was to help Derek get rid of Peter in a way that saved him from getting the alpha spark—he couldn’t just outright kill someone. Not even Peter. He just couldn’t do it. He could almost feel bile rising in the back of his throat as the horrendous imagery of the damage the nogitsune caused with his hands flashed through his mind at the mere thought of it. He wouldn’t even allow himself to start thinking about Allison.

If all Stiles had to do was perform a counter spell to the one Lydia had cast, then it wouldn’t be like murder. It would be like _restoring the balance_. He heard the words in his head with Ms. Morrell’s voice. Before he could do that, he had to know if it was at least possible for him. He needed to talk to Aunt Dee.

“What do you need to talk to Aunt Dee about?” Griffin asked. He reached over and put a hand behind Stiles’ next and looked him right in the eye. Stiles was suddenly overcome with a strong urge to come clean about the plan to Griffin. He wanted to be completely honest and just tell him everything. He shouldn’t lie to Griffin. He lo-

“Nothing.” He said the words without even thinking about it. “I just thought of some witch related question when I was talking to Aniyah.” What he’d said was enough of the truth that there wasn’t an uptick in his heart. “Probably nothing you’d be interested in.”

Griffin looked suspicious of what Stiles was saying, but he heard no lie, so he had no choice but to believe him.

“I’m just going to talk to her real quick, then I’m going to head home,” Stiles promised. He leaned over to give Griffin a short kiss before climbing out of the Durango. “I’ll see you tomorrow at school.” He shut the door then hustled over to the house, using his key to get inside and heading right for the closet.

Griffin lingered in the car for a moment longer. There was literally no reason for him not to believe what Stiles was saying. So why was he so suspicious? He just had a feeling in his stomach like something was going on around him and he didn’t like it.

There was a quiet chirping noise and Griffin looked down to see that Stiles had left his phone in the cup holder.

In the basement, Aunt Dee hadn’t been surprised that Stiles was coming and the door had already been open by the time he got into the closet. She’d also had the lights on already so that he wouldn’t trip down the stairs and die on his way down. That was very considerate of her.

“How may I help you, my dear Stiles?” she asked without preamble, probably feeling his apprehension and curiosity. She didn’t even look up from the book she was reading.

“So…” Stiles started right away before determining the best way to phrase his question. As usual, his mouth was working ahead of his brain. “Hypothetically speaking, how could you get a person to die with a spell? Hypothetically speaking.” Yeah, that probably wasn’t it.

Aunt Dee paused in her seat, hands hovering over the page of her book. She turned to look in his direction slowly, with an eyebrow quirked.

“I mean-” Stiles amended in a rush. “I don’t mean murder! I just mean- to make them not… alive anymore?” Not an improvement.

“That sounds like the same thing Stiles.” Aunt Dee pulled her hands from her book and turned her entire body toward him, gazing at the outline of his aura pensively. Her eyes turned a rich emerald green as she used a bit of magic to see what else she could read off of him.

“No!” Stiles smacked his head on the table in exasperation. The words were not coming out right. Just shut up Stiles. That would be the smart thing to do. Instead he kept talking. “Okay, nevermind that question. How about this one. How do you bring someone back from the dead?”

Aunt Dee was surprised by the change of question. She couldn’t sense any ill content coming from him. She could sense a lot of fear and frantic desperation as well as an ironclad determination to come to some conclusion. Unfortunately, no matter how strong her aura reading abilities were, they always stopped just short of mind reading so she had no idea about what.

“That requires a great amount of magic. Much more than you have. Hypothetically speaking.” She pretended to play along.

Stiles thought about that. How much magic do banshees have then? “What about on the worm moon?” he asked.

“That would require much less power, but only if it were under all of the perfect circumstances. The body couldn’t be too old, it would need direct moonlight, possibly even amplified. You would need the blood of that person-”

Stiles jerked his head up. “What about the blood of a relative?”

Aunt Dee shrugged thoughtfully. “Maybe, if they shared a powerful magical bond.”

If the alpha spark that Derek took from Peter counted as the powerful magical bond, then that sounded almost exactly like the spell Peter got Lydia to do to bring him back.

“There are lots of other factors that come into play in the success of such a spell. What I’m more concerned with, is why you are asking me this.”

Stiles ignored the question and continued on. “What if I wanted to reverse this spell? Hypothetically.”

Aunt Dee sighed at him, understanding a bit better. She tugged a hand through the gray hair at her temples, trying to determine what he was up to. “You would need all the same circumstances,” she explained. “It would have to be the same location and everything. Then you would need to prep the area for a reversal. That kind of magic is very ritualistic and relies on even more attention to detail than the first one. It’s honestly easier to just kill the person.”

Stiles made a frustrated noise at the back of his throat. If he tried that, he would have to wait until March. Peter could have a whole pack put together by then. That’s much too far away, and there was no way he could kill Peter on his own. And he _definitely_ wasn’t going to let Derek do it.

“Stiles,” Aunt Dee asked gently. “Who are you trying to get rid of?”

He didn’t bother trying to lie to her. She was the one who taught him to do it, he couldn’t pull the wool over her eyes. Besides, said eyes were still glowing. She’d see through it before the words came out of his mouth. Instead he ignored her question again.

“How about just a general reversal spell that’s powerful enough to undue that one?”

“I imagine so. That’s not the type of magic I do, or have ever done, so there isn’t one I know off the top of my head. I’m sure there are runes for it. It would require a pretty long incantation as well, though.”

“Wait, why?” Stiles let his curiosity over the runes get the better of him for a moment.

“The magic is _literally_ in the words,” Aunt Dee clarifed. “More words equals more magic. Less words means more of your own magic that needs to be channeled into the spell to get the same effect. Runes themselves are a physical manifestation of words, making them the most powerful kind of magic. They’re capable of anything. This is why anyone with just a bit of a spark can use them. But like I said earlier, the kind of spells that deals with life and death require a great amount of magic. So you would need both.”

“The magic is in the words?” Stiles repeated, as he pondered the thought. “So a powerful witch could do a spell with a single word, or none at all.” Aunt Dee nodded as he continued. “And a weak one could do the exact same spell just with more words.”

“That’s correct,” she affirmed.

Stiles shook the thought from his head. That was for another time. He steered the conversation back to the task at hand. “So what you’re saying is that there’s a rune that could undo the spell, but it would require more than just that.”

“Yes. There certainly is. However,” she could already see where he was heading with that train of thought. “I doubt you’re going to find it just by skimming through those books I gave you.”

Stiles honestly didn’t think that he would anyways, but perhaps it would give him somewhere to start a burst of research.

“Stiles,” Aunt Dee asked again, patiently. “Tell me, what are you planning? I can help you if you just tell me what it is you’re trying to do.”

He looked up at her, willing to accept the offer. Perhaps she could just get rid of Peter, then neither he nor Derek would have to worry about the resulting effects on them.

No. He couldn’t ask her to do that. He couldn’t ask her to kill for him. That is assuming she even could. He doesn’t doubt that she’s strong enough to, but she’s still blind. She’s in hiding because of how vulnerable it makes her. Who knows if she’d really be able to stand up against an alpha werewolf? Especially one as cunning and devoid of morals as Peter was. No. He would leave her out of this.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. We’re… speaking hypothetically, remember?”

“Hypothetically?” she asked, not believing it for even half of a second.

“Anyways,” he was suddenly in a hurry to get out of there. “I think you’ve given me a good enough answer. I’m going to go.” He pointed toward the staircase, forgetting she couldn’t see the gesture, then turned to leave.

Aunt Dee watched his aura bound up the stairs, worrying about what he’d gotten himself into.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin has Stiles' phone and he thinks about what to do with it.
> 
> This is a rare look into Griffin's past and an even rarer glimpse into his head. This is where you truly start to see exactly what kind of person he is. Something that's only been hinted at previously throughout the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of giving you one really long chapter as I had intended, I'm going to give you a much closer to normal length one so that I don't have to make you wait 10 more years for an update. Because of this, the next one is probably going to be short. We'll see.

Chapter Break

Griffin sat on his bed, angrily staring at Stiles’ phone, set out before him. He was stuck on the lock screen. He’d been glaring at it for over an hour—leg bouncing in agitation—arguing with himself whether or not he should be upset about it.

It was just a picture, though. Stiles probably had plenty of pictures of everyone on it. So what if _Derek_ was his lock screen instead of Griffin like it used to be? As attractive as Derek was, it wasn’t even a good picture. He was wearing a pink and purple tiara, scowling in terrible lighting. Obviously Stiles just thought it was funny. It’s not like the picture was there as a physical representation of the fact that Derek was the most important person in Stiles’ life or anything. Griffin’s just being _ridiculous_.

Except that he’s not.

He’d known since he first met Derek that Stiles was in love with him, and that Hale asshole was in love with Stiles too. It was infuriating to always have that thought niggling in the back of his mind. Especially in the beginning when Stiles couldn’t even lie and say no whenever he was asked about whether he liked him or not. It had hurt to know that Stiles couldn’t tell Griffin that he loved him because his heart belonged to Derek. Now that he could say it, it still hurt because Griffin had to share.

He was never good at sharing. He had a brief flashback of being a child and getting pat on the back by his Pappous because he shoved his human sister down the stairs when he caught her playing with his toys. She had a broken arm and concussion, but luckily it never turned into anything more serious than that. Griffin was properly berated and punished by his mother, but his grandfather was proud of him for displaying alpha behavior.

He felt that was a fitting description of his life. His mother teaching him to be a good person and his grandfather teaching him to be a good werewolf. Even now the two sides were constantly warring within him. The side of him that said he couldn’t control Stiles and his feelings, fighting against the side that wanted to kill Derek and prove he was the worthy mate.

Things were always like that for him. That was what got him into trouble in Washington. After his family died, he stayed in Tacoma with his cousin. They were taken in by a member of the smaller local pack as a favor owed to the Panselinos’. Griffin’s cousin was eventually offered a place among their ranks but, as an alpha, Griffin was never allowed. In fact, they only let him stay as a courtesy and always did their best to remind him that he had no power and was not welcome.

The side of him that was raised by his mother said to just accept the help with dignity and be the better person toward the mistreatment. One day he would no longer need the assistance and would return to his throne. The others would get their karma then. The side of him that was groomed by his Pappous told him that he was better than all of them and shouldn’t have to stand for it. Those weak little wolves needed punishment for such disrespect of their superiors.

After failing to abide by the alpha’s ridiculous curfew one too many times, Griffin had found himself being punished at the man’s hands. Again. He’d been ordered to clean the ceiling to floor windows that lined an entire floor of the man’s sprawling estate while the rest of the pack was gathered on the other side for an impromptu pack meeting. In other words, they were brought in to stand around and laugh at him. After adamantly refusing, he found himself outside kneeling, soaking wet, and humiliated while the alpha stood over him, mocking him and trashtalking his family name.

After years of dealing with similar treatment, his Pappous’ voice in his head finally won out that day and he snapped, attacking the alpha. Griffin stood up, grabbing him by the shoulders and put him through the glass. The rest of the pack was fully shifted and surrounding him in seconds. Before they could reach him, he let out a bone shaking roar that shattered the long row of windows and had the walls of the mansion shaking. Everyone’s eyes flashed gold or blue and they dropped to their knees. They were unable to resist the instinct as his outcry thundered through the woods around the house and set off car alarms all the way down the long road to the street.

He stepped through the window, shoes crunching on glass, and wrapped a hand around the alpha’s neck. He jerked him up off the floor and into the air, toes dangling feet from the ground. “Need I remind you,” Griffin started with a dangerously calm voice, digging his claws into the man’s neck and drawing blood. “That the only power you have over me is the power that I _allow_ you. So if I allow you none, then _I_ am the highest ranking one in the room.” He turned around and flung him back outside, across the yard and into the freezing water of the pool. A few of his betas attempted to run after him, but Griffin flashed his eyes, keeping everyone in place and baring their necks to him in submission. “Does anyone else need a reminder?” he asked, a thinly veiled threat just daring them to speak up. There was no reply, so after a moment he turned and left the house, waiting until he’d made it all the way outside before releasing his hold on the pack and allowing them to retrieve their alpha from the water.

He had no intention of killing the man. He merely wanted to prove the point that he could. Griffin’s self-control was the only reason that he hadn’t already. He was a Panselinos and that fucking _meant_ something. Apparently they had all forgotten. Even his cousin, who was among their ranks that night. They remembered now.

He had certainly proved his point. What he hadn’t been anticipating was no longer having a place to sleep, and having been withdrawn from school the next day. He was a minor with nothing and no one. He didn’t even have rights to his own family’s properties. He couldn’t go back to school without an adult to register him, and he couldn’t get a job without permission from a parent and a school.

His options were to go somewhere else or to be taken in by the foster care system. He wasn’t about to let _that_ happen. So he broke into his old house to find Aunt Dee’s contact information and arranged to go to California.

He and his brother Ladon hated each other, so he never once thought of going to Maine with him. They had never been close because of their age difference anyways, but Ladon was the oldest boy so he was being groomed to take over as alpha. Since Griffin was their grandfather’s favorite, they somehow always wound up being treated like equals despite the fact that Ladon was 12 years older and was raised to believe no one but his grandfather was his equal.

When their family was murdered and Griffin inherited the alpha spark instead of Ladon that was the final straw. All of the family’s money and assets legally went to Ladon, but since he knew that traditionally they were not his, he never touched it and let it get all wrapped up in legal until Griffin turned 18. Ladon didn’t even offer to help him or take him in. The least he could have done was to keep the rights to one of their houses so that Griffin had a place to stay, but he wouldn’t even do that. No. Staying with Ladon had never been an option.

Somehow the phone had made its way into Griffin’s hand and his thumb was lingering over the unlock button. Hm.

How’d that get there?

Once again, he found his mother’s voice in his head telling him not to snoop. Stiles is owed his privacy and his own thoughts and feelings. Put the phone down.

Then his Pappous told him that Derek was encroaching on his territory. He had ample opportunity to make a move on Stiles but didn’t, so Griffin effectively pushed him out of the way and claimed Stiles as his own. Now Derek was trying to subtly push Griffin out of the way. Stiles was his now and Derek was crossing a line. He needed to put him in check. His instincts told him that they were up to something, so snooping through Stiles’ phone was a means to figuring out what. He didn’t just have every right. It was his fucking duty.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, Griffin had lit up the screen and slid the phone unlocked.

Well, now that he was here…

If the lock screen was irritating then the home page was downright infuriating. It was another picture of Derek, of course. This time the lighting was better, although still pretty bad and Derek wasn’t looking at the camera. He was looking at a little girl with a big, kind smile on his face. Griffin had never seen Derek smile like that. In fact, he’d never seen Derek smile at all unless it was at or because of Stiles. Not counting when he was doing it maliciously or condescendingly. This time his whole face was lit up and he had unfamiliar crinkles around his eyes. He was lifting up the little girl with mocha skin and soft brown curls. She was laughing as she reached to place her tiara on his head.

The whole thing was adorable, and domestic, and heartwarming, and so sweet, and Griffin wanted to chuck the phone across the room and possibly vomit. He opened up Stiles’ photo album, wondering what kind of incriminating pictures he could find. He scrolled through a few pictures of earlier at the coffee shop and a few of the interior of the jeep at odd angles. He passed a bunch of himself and then he hit the motherload. There was at least 50 more pictures of Derek and the little girl playing around.

Griffin ran across one of just the little girl. She was sitting up howling with her hands on her head like a pair of wolf ears. That wasn’t what caught Griffin’s attention. His focus zoomed in on the bottom of the picture where 3 feet could be seen. One of them was obviously Stiles’ in a neon purple sock with a crescent moon on it. The other 2 had black socks. The thing that made Griffin’s stomach churn was that the purple sock was _between_ the black ones. Meaning either Derek grew a third leg and was sharing socks with Stiles, or Stiles _must have been in his lap_!

Griffin closed out of the album and immediately opened up the texts to distract himself. That probably wasn’t the best idea for a distraction, but he did it. Right at the top of the messages list was Derek’s nickname “Sourwolf” in bolded letters. Griffin clicked on it angrily, making the phone creak as he squeezed on it too hard. He loosened up his grip and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm the wolf inside him that was preparing for attack.

The last message in the string was from Derek while they were in the car, reading: _See. We_ _’_ _ll be okay. Just stick to what I said._ Of fucking course he’d been texting Derek. Why was Griffin even surprised?

Stiles’ message before that stated: _Thank God he bought it. I almost blew everything_.

The previous one was from when they were still in the coffee shop. Sourwolf: _I_ _’_ _ll figure it out, I promise. Just focus on this right now_. Griffin continued to read the messages, scrolling upward so that he saw the entire conversation backwards.

Batman: _We need to figure out how to deal with him and fast_.

Sourwolf: _I won_ _’_ _t. Not until he does._

Batman: _Just don_ _’_ _t leave._

Sourwolf: _Breathe. I_ _’_ _m right here. I won_ _’_ _t let him do anything to you._

Batman: _With everything, but what if he doesn_ _’_ _t buy it?_

Sourwolf: _Yes you can. We talked about this. You trust me right?_

Batman: _Not to him!!! I can_ _’_ _t do this._

Sourwolf: _You can do this. You_ _’_ _ve been lying this whole time._

Batman: _What if I fuck this all up?_

Sourwolf: _Just remember what I told you._

Batman: _Holy God I_ _’_ _m freaking out! What do I do?_

Sourwolf: _I_ _’_ _m right outside. Control your heart rate._

Batman: _Where are you???!!!_

Sourwolf: _I know. I_ _’_ _ve been watching this whole time._

Batman: _He_ _’_ _s in the coffee shop with us!_

Griffin stopped right there. He didn’t want to read anymore. Derek had Stiles lying about something this whole time? He thought back to the past week when he’d been acting weird and lying every other word. Then slowly but surely he’d stopped lying so much, until finally he stopped completely.

Unless…

Unless he didn’t stop lying so much as he learned how to get away with it. Griffin’s hackles rose at the thought and he had to fight to tamp down his rage. So any of the things Stiles had been saying lately could have been false? How could Griffin ever know what was real or what was fake? For that matter, how could Griffin trust Stiles again?

If Stiles had been lying this whole time, then what about yesterday? Stiles told Griffin that he loved him and he hadn’t been prompted to. The first time he said it, Griffin asked him first. So he had obviously been lying then. In fact it was probably the first major lie Stiles had gotten away with telling him because that was during their fight about his weird behavior. It was one of the first times he’d said _anything_ that didn’t raise any alarms bells that entire week. Yesterday he’d said it all on his own. Why?

Because he wasn’t _lying_ when he said it. He’d been led to believe it.

Stiles had been sitting in his lap at the time, right after having had what Griffin was sure must have been the most intense orgasm of his life. Griffin had been so happy and in love at that moment. Stiles wasn’t lying when he said he’d loved him, he was reflecting Griffin’s own emotions right back at him. They were touching in so many places at the time that Griffin must have unintentionally been pouring his own emotions into him.

Even just a small point of contact was enough to strengthen the emotions a witch picked up on. Enough concentration and you could completely manipulate the sense, picking and choosing what they felt. He’d been doing it all weekend. He and Stiles had been touching so much that Griffin must have completely changed Stiles’ emotions without even meaning to.

That meant Stiles never loved him at all. Griffin could almost hear the tendons straining and ripping as his heart cleaved itself into 2.

Then of course, there was that comment that Peter had made earlier. Telling Stiles to send a message to Derek. He hadn’t asked anyone else, only Stiles. Implying Stiles was seeing him regularly. He didn’t even say “next time,” or anything. As if it was just completely inevitable that those 2 would be together again soon, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Stiles wasn’t his. He was Derek’s. He was always Derek’s and he always would be. Griffin let the phone slip out of his hands and skid off the bed, hitting the ground with an echo like a gunshot while he let the thought swallow him.

That must be what those two were lying about. They were sneaking around playing house with that little girl in the picture, and Derek was coercing Stiles into lying to him about it.

Because why? The messages made it seem like Stiles was afraid of what Griffin might do if he found out. He was afraid of blowing their cover. He was right to be scared, Griffin would likely rip Derek’s head off.

Griffin just didn’t understand why Stiles bothered with their relationship at all if he was so in love with Derek? It could have been born out of a desire to protect Derek, but Griffin didn’t think he was buying that. Granted, Stiles wouldn’t be wrong to be worried about it. He just had no basis for it. Griffin had never given Stiles a reason to think he was anywhere near aggressive enough to do something like that. Sure, he’d let slip his apathy for certain things and maybe even how much he disliked Derek. But since Stiles had released his magic, Griffin had always made sure to redirect his emotions to something safer in any instance where he might be able to pick up something like that.

Griffin didn’t know what to think. He hunkered down beneath his blankets, hiking them above his head. He wrapped himself up in darkness, completely submerged in his rogue and angry thoughts. All he could think was that Stiles didn’t love him. Stiles had lied to him. Stiles wasn’t his. He didn’t have anyone anymore.

Those words kept replaying over and over in his head, quickly becoming the soundtrack to his night. He wasn’t going to be getting much sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with Stiles at the homestead, and he gets up to shenanigans with his Dad.
> 
> Long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is 9 pages of mostly filler with tidbits of important details sprinkled throughout. It's a lot longer than I thought it would be, but I really like this one.

Chapter Break

Across town at the Stilinski abode, Stiles had arrived home with just enough time to stop his father from defrosting a package of pork chops to cook himself for a late dinner.

“What have I told you about red meat?” He snatched the microwave open and waved the pack at the Sheriff accusingly. “Where’d you even get this?”

“Oh come on!” John pleaded with his son trying to steal the pork back but unable to reach without straining his still slightly sore chest wound. “I’ve been eating ground turkey and tofu for too long! A man needs real meat! One or two pork chops isn’t going to kill me.”

“You don’t know that!” Stiles argued. “Besides Dad! You need to watch your heart! You were shot!”

“Yeah, in the _clavicle_. My heart is just fine.” John waved the silly notion away, sulking as he stepped out of the kitchen.

“Sure, you weren’t hit in the heart,” Stiles complained, throwing the meat back in the freezer. “But a major wound like that is still taxing on the body, and yes _stressful on the heart_.” John didn’t answer back so Stiles harrumphed successfully while pulling out the chicken he had defrosting in the fridge.

After a moment too long of silence, Stiles realized that his dad had given up too easily. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Stiles walked into the living room to see what he was up to. As soon as he rounded the corner in the hallway he was slammed face first into the closet door.

“Dad! What the hell?” he shouted, voice muffled from where his cheek was smashed into the wood.

“I am the sheriff,” John stated calmly. He’d slammed around and arrested enough criminals, doing it to his unsuspecting son didn’t even take much effort. “If I want pork chops, I’m getting pork chops. You don’t win this time.”

Just as suddenly as he’d grabbed Stiles, he let him go, walking back to the kitchen. Stiles rushed to chase after him, but before he’d taken 2 full steps, he was jerked back to the door by his right hand. Shocked, he looked down at his hand to see that he’d been handcuffed to the doorknob.

“Are you serious?” he shrieked. He wanted to be pissed that his dad would be so devious. As it was, he couldn’t because he was too busy feeling like a smug little shit. Undoubtedly picking up the emotion from his Dad.

John chuckled at him as he went back into the kitchen. “Sorry son. Not this time,” he teased.

Not one to be outdone, Stiles had one more trick up his sleeve. Literally.

John whistled tauntingly as he practically danced around the kitchen to fetch his pork chops. He waved his fingers in ecstatic little jazz hands as he walked over to the microwave. Just as he was about to slide the package inside, it slipped right out of his fingers. Frowning, he looked down to see where it had fallen. It wasn’t on the floor. He hadn’t heard it hit the ground either. Strange.

He looked up and saw it hovering in the air a few feet above his head. He looked at it curiously for a minute before it finally dawned on him what was happening.

“Goddammit Stiles!” he shouted. Stiles laughed right back at him.

When he opened the door to the closet, Stiles was able to come around the corner enough to see into the kitchen. From there, he’d used his telekinesis to snatch the offending meat from his father’s hands.

Still feeling smug, he made the pack dance up and down in the air while John tried to swat at it.

Finally, John just gave up, sighing heavily. “Whose idea was it to teach you magic? You just became like ten times more annoying.”

Stiles snickered in agreement, dragging the pork through the house to come land on the floor by his feet. He turned back to the closet, digging through the coat pockets inside until he came across a safety pin. He used it to pick the lock of the cuffs and was back in the kitchen teasing his dad with the meat in minutes.

That was where they were standing when the doorbell rang. It was a little surprising considering neither of them had been expecting guests and it was starting to get late now. John went to answer it and was slightly bewildered to see Deputy Kiana Adamski standing there.

“Lusia!” Stiles shouted when he saw her, dropping to his knees with his arms wide for her.

“Saiyo!” she screeched running right in and tackling him. He was immediately filled with her childlike glee and squeezed her tight, shaking her a little until she was giggling at the top of her lungs.

“Sorry about just coming by like this,” Kiana apologized to John. “I tried calling Stiles a few times, but he didn’t pick up.” In the back of his mind, Stiles thought that was strange. He hadn’t heard his phone ringing. “There’s just been an emergency, and they’re calling me in. You know how it is.” John nodded, he certainly did. “Her regular sitter’s out of town because I was supposed to have the day off and her Dad is still on his business trip. I didn’t really know what else to do.”

“That’s no problem, we love having her over,” John insisted. “Especially Stiles.” He looked over to see Stiles holding Lusia clutched to his chest while he barrel rolled across the floor. They were both laughing like idiots. Thinking Stiles looked too preoccupied to eavesdrop, John ventured to ask, “Tell me, what’s going on?”

“Well,” she sighed. “We just got a call in saying somebody ran out of the woods and straight into traffic. We sent some guys down to check it out and take witness reports, but nothing’s lining up. We had to block the highway off and keep everyone for questioning… The whole thing’s a huge clusterfuck and it’s starting to look like there’s a possibility of foul play. She’ll probably be here all night.” She gestured toward her daughter at the end.

“Wow,” John frowned pensively. “You’d better get out there, then. Keep me updated.”

“Yeah, alright.” Kiana sighed heavily. She set Lusia’s diaper bag, a sleeping bag with an attached pillow, and her potty chair on the floor near the door. “Pożegnanie kochanie!” She called to Lusia in Polish.

Stiles brought her over to her mother for a kiss and a hug. “Bah byeMamo,” she called back.

“Thanks so much,” the deputy told Stiles after handing Lusia back. “You’re really saving me here.”

“No problem,” he smiled at her. “I love hanging out with Lusia.”

“Oozia,” the toddler parroted back to him happily, mispronouncing her own name.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys in the morning then.” She waved to John the left, heading to her car.

John had thought Stiles hadn’t heard what was going on, in actuality, he heard every word. He immediately put Lusia down in front of his dad and reached to get the keys to his jeep.

“I must have left my phone in the car,” he explained. “I’m going to run out and go get it.” He shut the door behind himself, but instead of going to his own car, he ran up to the deputy, stopping her as she got into her own Acura. “Hey, uh… I just have a question,” he asked. She looked up at him expectantly. “Did Lusia have dinner yet?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course she did,” Adamski answered, seemingly confused by the question. “It’s getting late, she should tire out pretty soon, actually.” She furrowed her brow as he kept looking at her. “I get the feeling that wasn’t the real reason you came out here?” It wasn’t. She was very smart.

“Actually,” Stiles admitted. “I was kind of wondering what exactly you meant earlier when you said nothing was lining up at the scene you were headed to.”

“Oh.” She narrowed her eyes contemplatively while she tried to decide whether or not to tell him. She did know how Stiles was. She also knew he would figure it out whether she told him or not and that she would probably get out of there faster if she just told him. “Well, we got people saying the guy ran into traffic all on his own. Others are saying he got pushed. Some are saying he got chased. Some people say he was alone, others swear up and down there was another guy with him. Then he’s also got some kind of bite on him, but out of all the different reports, nobody mentions any animals. There were no tracks other than his own around either, human or animal. Some people say they heard screams beforehand, others say they heard nothing until he got hit. A couple of people are even claiming the car that hit him did it on purpose. The whole thing’s just confusing.” She looked at the clock on her dash and gave him an apologetic look. “I really gotta go Stiles.”

“Sure, sorry.” He backed away from the car, letting her words sink in. “Uh,” he glanced at the house, thinking of Lusia, then back at the car. “Just… be safe.” She gave him a small salute, then pulled off.

He waited until she’d rounded the corner before sprinting toward the jeep like a madman. He unlocked it quickly and scrambled around it, looking for his phone.

A man with a _mysterious bite_ was running through the woods, possibly _away from something_ when he ran into traffic? Stiles needed to know what was going on with Peter. _Right now_!

He ransacked his car, looking under the seats, in the glove box, the trunk, everywhere. He even dug through the boxes of books he’d made Griffin pile into his back seat before they left for the café. His phone was nowhere to be found. Shit!

He took 2 trips to lug the boxes back inside, then returned downstairs, searching around the kitchen and even digging through the closet to see if he’d dropped it anywhere. He still couldn’t find it. He was so intent on finding it that he didn’t even notice that his anxiety was making the kitchen cabinets rattle, or that the closet door opened without him touching it (along with every other door in the house).

“Saiyo!” Lusia called from the living room, where she was shuffling her feet and punching the air as she danced to the jingle on the commercial John was watching.

“Chodź tutaj!” he called her over, reaching his arms out. She giggled at him and marched over, swinging her arms as if she were wading through water. She was so happy, he couldn’t help but reach over and tickle her. Absorbing her childlike giddiness was making it difficult for him to focus on the fact that he was in a rush and worried.

He lifted her up and sat her on his canted hip, carrying her up the stairs and into his room. He sat with her at his laptop, pulling up the page to search for his phone. It took a minute for the tracker to find it, but when it was located, it said that it was at Griffin’s house. He sighed in relief that it wasn’t lost. He must have left it in the cup holder. That was no big deal. It shouldn’t cause too much damage there.

His phone being safe was good, but that didn’t change the fact that he needed to talk to Derek. He pulled up Skype and immediately sent a call to Derek’s phone. It rang for longer than he’d anticipated, but he finally answered.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” Derek bit out instead of a greeting. He looked like he was inside his car.

“Deck!” Lusia screeched excitedly, pointing at the computer. She remembered him from Friday. “Pin-sess!”

“I don’t have it,” Stiles answered Derek while smiling at Lusia. “That’s right,” he told her. “It is Princess Derek.”

“Well, where is it?” Derek asked, video lagging for a second.

“Oh no!” Lusia whined until the image caught up.

“I left it in Griffin’s car. Where are you?” Suddenly feeling discouraged, the dread he’d been feeling about Adamski’s crime scene zoomed into focus with a stark clarity. “What has Peter been up to? Have you heard about the guy in the woods?”

“Yeah I did.” Derek scowled at the camera. “He bit that guy.”

“Teeth,” Lusia interjected, gritting her teeth and pointing to them as an example. “No biting,” she shook her head, perfectly parroting words that had been told to her countless times before.

“That’s right,” Stiles agreed somberly. “No biting.” That had been exactly what he’d feared.

“I tried to keep him from running into the street, but I hid at the last minute so Peter wouldn’t catch me…” Derek trailed off, but Stiles knew exactly where he was going with that.

“That makes another person that _Peter_ _’_ _s_ killed. The list is getting too long.” Stiles made sure to emphasize that it was Peter’s fault and not Derek’s. Derek liked to blame himself for things that weren’t his fault. He was not taking the blame for this one. “Where’s he at now?”

“I don’t know,” Derek shook his head. “After I hid to keep my cover, he took off and I lost him. I need to figure out what to do with him, and fast. If I didn’t have to worry about staying hidden, he wouldn’t have been able to bite that guy in the first place. I could have killed him days ago.”

“Well, I may have a solution to all of your problems.”

“Stiles,” Derek scolded. “I already told you to stay out of it. I’m not going to let you-”

“When have I ever listened to you?” Stiles cut him off, waving the thought away with his hand. “Besides, that’s not it. Not really. I have an idea of what we can do. It’s not all figured out yet, but I have somewhere to start.” Derek sighed in defeat. “Get over here and I can tell you what I have.”

“Fine.”

He waved at the screen. “Say ‘bye Princess’,” he told Lusia.

“Bye Pin-sess,” she waved obediently. Stiles expected a scowl, or at least a glare. Instead, Derek gave them a small smile.

“Bye,” he said, obviously stifling a laugh before disconnecting.

Stiles predicted it would be another 30 minutes before Derek got there. That gave him enough time to go downstairs and stare at his dad judgmentally while he ate the pork chops Stiles could smell him cooking. Then he could make himself something to eat and start to get a look at the runes book he’d gotten from Aunt Dee. It wasn’t the only source for runes that he had, but it was definitely much more comprehensive than anything else he’d managed to compile. It was pushing 9 already, so he figured Lusia would be getting sleepy by then, so he could put her to bed in his room.

He went to the top of the stairs, intending to go down them to retrieve the things he’d left by the door, but he looked down at his wrist. He grinned to himself as he remembered he didn’t have to go down the stairs for them. He wished for his back’s sake that he’d remembered that before he carted those two heavy boxes up the stairs, but better late than never.

Looking down at them, he reached an arm over the bannister. He used his telekinesis to lift Lusia’s bag, her potty chair, and sleeping bag. They all soared into the air, making a loopity loop before trailing up to him in a single file line. Lusia giggled and clapped as he levitated them past her to set them on the floor of his room, near the desk. Finally, with a level of focus he would not have been capable of a year ago, he was able to lift the tiny red beryl he’d removed from his bracelet earlier and set on the stand by the door. It flew through the air and he deposited it on his nightstand so he could return it to its rightful place later.

Successful, he shrugged his shoulders smugly before leading Lusia down the stairs to bother his Dad.

20 minutes later, Stiles was sitting at his desk with the thick runology book in front of him and a few smaller ones spread out to the side of it. Lusia was in his lap, dressed in her pajamas and sleepily watching an episode of the Pajanimals on his laptop. Beside the large book was the remains of his sandwich and a plate of chips that Lusia kept stealing from.

He’d skipped through quite a bit of his runology book, referencing some of the other ones as well as his pages of notes that he’d been taking when the pack was trying to fend off the evil witch, Mariah. He’d actually managed to get a good idea of what he needed to come up with. More so than finding the specific rune or runes that he needed, he realized that he could just create one.

He started with the upside down pentagram as a basic reversal, slowly adding and altering pieces according to the notes and his reading. By the time Derek had climbed through his window (because really, there’s just no such thing as a god damned _door_!) he’d gone from 25 possibilities that all looked very similar to the original pentagram, down to 7 runes that each looked further from a pentagram than the last.

Derek sat down on Stiles’ bed, grinning to himself at the awkward way Stiles had his arm leaned against the desk so as not to wake up Lusia, who had fallen asleep on it.

“So,” he started. “What’s this plan of yours?”

Suddenly enthused, Stiles whipped around in the chair, holding the toddler to his chest so she wouldn’t fly off his lap. She snorted a bit at the sudden movement, but otherwise didn’t wake up. Stiles waved the paper he’d been working on in Derek’s face.

“This,” he whispered excitedly, “is the solution to all of our problems.” Derek’s eyebrows rose curiously. “Well, okay it could be,” Stiles clarified. “Almost.”

“How?” Derek asked, definitely not convinced.

“I was thinking about Lydia today-not like that!” he had to defend himself against the sudden judging lilt to Derek’s eyebrows. “I was thinking about how she used a spell to bring Peter back to life.”

“I’m still not following you.” Derek’s eyebrows looked no less judgmental.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I was thinking that if there was a spell, there had to be a counterspell, right?” Derek nodded slowly. Now he was getting it. “So I asked Aunt Dee about it-discreetly!” There went those eyebrows again. “I mean, I’m sure she knows I’m up to something, but she has no idea what. And she has no idea that Peter is involved. I doubt she even knows who he is at this point.” Derek rolled his hand in the air impatiently, encouraging Stiles to get to the point. “Okay, so anyways,” he raced to get back on track. “She told me there was a counterspell—of course there was—but it would be really difficult and we’d have to wait until the worm moon again. It would literally be easier to just kill him-”

“I fail to see how that helps us.”

“Ye of little faith, Derek.” Stiles waggled a scolding finger at him. “I wasn’t done yet.” Derek huffed irritably, crossing his arms. “Okay, okay. So instead, I asked her if there was just a general reversal spell that would work. That led me to the runes. Now I’ve got it boiled down to seven, but I want to get it down to one or two. When we’ve got that, then we’ll be able to use it to reverse the spell that Lydia did and Peter would go back to being the shriveled and burnt corpse that he should be. Poof, the end. Then no one has to kill him, he just returns to his original state. That’s genius, right?”

Derek had to admit, that did sound impressive. “How would we do it?” He reached to take the paper from Stiles, looking at the rune scribbled over it multiple times on front and back.

“I would need to draw whichever symbol we choose either over his heart or on his forehead, depending on the final meaning behind it. It would have to be done in a mixture of your blood laced with wolfsbane. Then I would have to say the enchantment. That’s the other part. I would need to actually _find_ the enchantment. I don’t have any books or practice in spellcrafting, so I can’t just make it like I’m making the runes.”

“You _made_ these?” Derek asked incredulously. He stood up to take a look at the others on the desk, stepping right into Stiles’ space.

“Yeah,” Stiles smiled over the mess of books and papers proudly.

“And you’re sure they’ll work?”

“I’m never sure of anything anymore,” Stiles admitted with surprising honesty. “But these have every reason to work, and no reasons not to. We’re out of options otherwise. So I’m willing to put my faith into them.”

Derek nodded, trusting Stiles. “How much longer do you think it’ll take?” he asked.

Stiles shrugged. “If I stay up, I can finish these tonight.” He pointed to the runes. “Then If I skip school tomorrow, I could probably find the spell by the end of the day.”

“Don’t skip school,” Derek warned. Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but Derek wasn’t hearing it. “Peter hasn’t been active at all during the day. He usually doesn’t start getting up to anything until sunset at the earliest. I still have to find him again before we can even do anything, you still need to get your phone from Griffin, and I don’t want you doing magic like this when you’re exhausted.” Stiles sighed through his nose. All valid arguments. “School’s important anyways,” he added.

Stiles scoffed at that last part and rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. He felt so warm and fondly exasperated. He couldn’t help but to squeeze Lusia a bit. He was so concerned about her and wanted to make sure she would be okay. He wanted to keep her safe. She was perfectly safe in his arms, so it was possible that _he_ didn’t actually feel that way about Lusia. But he didn’t want to think about the alternative, so no. That must have been it.

He must have squeezed her a little too hard because she suddenly started whining. “It’s okay,” Stiles shushed her. “Look, Princess Derek’s here.” She opened her eyes to look up at Derek, and frowned at him, unimpressed. She continued whining crabbily and kicked her feet to squirm out of Stiles’ lap (and the death hold he had on her). “You want to go to bed?” he asked her.

She grouchily stomped her feet over to where her sleeping bag had been stretched out for her, and sat down on it, pouting. “No!” she shouted, before dissolving into tears. She tipped herself over and wailed into her pillow with her butt sticking up in the air. Stiles was overwhelmed with a sudden sense of panic and a frantic desire to fix it. That couldn’t have been him, he knew better than that.

Derek walked over to her sleeping bag and Lusia sat upright, reaching her arms up to him.

“Oh no you don’t!” Stiles threatened. “Don’t you dare pick her up!”

“But she’s crying,” Derek argued, brow furrowed worriedly.

“She’s just being a grump because she’s tired. I’m sure you can relate. You should both take more naps.”

Derek reached down to pick her up anyways, and Stiles huffed in irritation. She immediately stopped crying and buried her curly head into Derek’s shoulder, sniffing. “See,” Derek showed Stiles.

“She just manipulated you so hard,” Stiles explained. “Seriously, never have children. You will be wrapped around their little fingers. They’ll be spoiled rotten, complete menaces to society.”

“They couldn’t be any worse than you,” Derek smirked, subconsciously rocking side to side, swaying Lusia to sleep.

“Hey, I’ve been better lately,” Stiles defended himself. “I don’t think I’ve broken a single law this… week.”

“It’s Sunday,” Derek deadpanned.

“I stand by my statement.”

Derek rolled his eyes and Stiles felt that fond exasperation again. He really wanted to reach out and touch. So he did, he scooped up Lusia from Derek’s arms and carried her over to his own bed. He sat her down next to him and tried to pretend like he didn’t hear Derek make the most adorable little sad puppy noise when he took her away. He’s a horrible person! How dare he? She’s so cute! He should give her back. He had to shake the stray thoughts from his head.

Lusia flopped onto the mattress unhappily, kicking her feet in the air and rolling to the middle while she whined in frustration. She landed on her back, arms stretched out like a star, with a surly frown on her face.

He left her there and moved back to the desk, returning to his runes. “I guess I should finish this,” He sighed. Derek nodded, knowing he should go back to searching for Peter too. He cast Lusia one final glance and Stiles followed his gaze.

Using his telekinesis, Stiles lifted her sleeping bag off the floor, unzipping it and laying it over her. Her eyes were already rolling back in her head, and she was fast asleep less than a minute later.

“You really shouldn’t use your magic around her so casually,” Derek warned as he headed toward the window.

Stiles scoffed. “She’s two,” he argued. “Who’s she gonna tell?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pożegnanie kochanie - Goodbye sweetheart  
> Chodź tutaj - Come here  
> All translations done by Google Translate with the guidance of Yahoo Answers responses from like 2011. Blame any mistakes on them.
> 
> **Also, I did tag domestic violence in this right**???


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin confronts Stiles about his suspicions.
> 
> Shit... Meet Fan!
> 
> Another longish one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically 9 pages of dialogue (and by dialogue I mean Stiles and Griffin yelling at each other) and bad decisions being made.

Chapter Break (Monday)

“You _liar_!” Griffin shouted, voice echoing around the room and turning heads in his direction.

He hadn’t intended to just explode with rage. Especially not in front of a large group of people. He’d spent the entire morning sulking and avoiding anyone, trying to decide how he was going to approach Stiles about everything. Instead of coming up with a game plan, he’d wasted the entire time away stewing in his sadness and rage.

A large portion of his morning classes had been devoted to listening to the two sides warring inside his mind. He knew that he should just let Stiles go. It was the best solution to everything. Perhaps it was his own fault for getting so attached so quickly anyways. He should just give him his phone back and break it off and they could both move on.

At the same time, he didn’t want to. Who cares how long they’d been together. They obviously cared about each other. Griffin _loved_ Stiles. He wasn’t afraid to fight for their relationship. He needed to step up and prove he was better for him than that fucking _Hale_!

By the time the lunch period rolled around, Griffin had argued both sides back and forth. Finally, he came to the rational conclusion that he should take Stiles aside and talk to him. Just _talk_. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe it wasn’t. But Griffin wanted to save their relationship if he could, and the only way to do that was to talk it out with him.

He’d pinpointed Stiles’ distinct heartbeat and followed it into the lunch room. After having thought about it, Griffin previously realized that room was the start of all their problems. It wasn’t like it was the room’s fault or anything. But there was a night a few weeks ago where he and Stiles had the option of going in there or leaving, and he’d followed Stiles in there. Everything went downhill from there.

It was currently abuzz with the din of a hundred students chattering, and eating, and chattering about eating, and everything else under the sun. Griffin zoned in on that heartbeat again and it led him right up to the table where Stiles and his friends were sitting, engrossed in their own food and conversations. As he approached the table he could pick out all the individual scents of their group.

The dry desert scent of Scott. Citrus and sunshine Danny. Soft powdery Isaac, laced with that constant salty stench of sadness. Warm seawater Kira. The chemical smell of artificial flowers, hair product, and processed fabric that covered Lydia’s true scent well enough it might as well have been her own.

Then there was Stiles. The thick, honey and bound books, strong like whisky aroma of Stiles. He smelled faintly like Griffin and the interior of the Durango. Then there was that sunny peaches undertone that Griffin often smelled on Aunt Dee and he was starting to think is just the smell of untapped magic. Stiles smelled familiar, like pack. Like family, which Griffin doesn’t have too much of anymore. But that wasn’t it.

Griffin could smell something else on him. It was the sweet candy scent of a young child, wrapped around his neck. It was vaguely familiar, like he’d smelled it before. It must have been the little girl from the pictures with Derek. The one he’d smelled on Stiles Saturday morning. The morning that he smelled so strongly of Derek that Griffin was concerned about them sleeping together. Then just underneath that, with the faintest hint—as if the majority of the scent had been washed away in a shower—Griffin smelled Derek.

He remembered the picture of the child with the 3 feet at the bottom and immediately all of his resolve vanished. All thoughts of calmly talking or fighting for his relationship vanished. They were replaced with a sudden flash of rage.

Stiles was lying to him and he was probably _fucking_ Derek! He was such an asshole, and a two timing liar! Screaming as much, Griffin stormed the last few steps up to the table and slammed his hand on it right beside Stiles’ tray. He’d hit it much harder than he’d meant to, but fortunately not hard enough to be a cause of concern.

The sound it made, coupled with the words he shouted was so loud that it echoed through the room and the entire cafeteria grew silent to eavesdrop. The pack just looked up at him in shock and disbelief. A piece of a sandwich fell out of Isaac’s mouth because he was too shocked to stop from gaping.

“You lied right to my face and you’ve been lying this whole time!” Griffin continued.

Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. Shit.

He wouldn’t deny it. There was no point, really. He had been lying. Honestly, he kind of wanted to know how Griffin found that out.

“Okay,” Stiles tried to defend himself regardless, taking a much more civilized tone. “There was obviously a reason for that-”

“You were never going to tell me, were you?” Griffin cut right to the chase. Not yelling anymore, but still loud enough that he could be heard clearly through the silence. “You were just going to let me keep making an ass of myself weren’t you? Why? If you never loved me at all then why? Why keep leading me on?”

Stiles could feel the anger rolling off Griffin in waves of frustration and heat. His negative energy was filling up the space around him and Stiles was absorbing it up, reflecting it back. He stood up abruptly, the movement sharp and angry. Standing, Griffin wouldn’t be yelling down at him anymore. Or at least not by as much.

“Can we take this conversation somewhere else, please?” he asked, voice just barely less than shouting. He was doing pretty well with the building up rage so far, he thought. He wanted to tell Griffin about the spell Aunt Dee put on him. Obviously he couldn’t do that with essentially the entire school listening to them, thanks to Griffin’s big mouth.

“No, just talk to me now.” Griffin actually managed to say it calmly.

“I’m not having this conversation with an _audience_.” Stiles snapped, gesturing to the room around them. He didn’t indicate the rest of the pack at the table, but he didn’t really want to do it in front of them either.

“Talk to me _right now_ ,” Griffin insisted, stubborn as ever. His voice left no room for argument. Even more headstrong than he was, Stiles raised a questioning eyebrow at him. Yeah, _that_ wasn’t about to happen. Stiles stepped over his seat and walked right out of the lunchroom without another word. Every eye was on him as he left, Griffin’s included.

Still teeming with rage, Griffin had to use way more of his self-control than he’d be comfortable admitting to keep from using his werewolf speed to catch up to him. Instead, he counted to 10… okay 15… no 20. Yes. 20 was good. Then he walked at just above a regular human speed to go follow Stiles.

Just before he walked away, Scott opened his mouth to say something, probably to impart some type of advice for handling Stiles, but the words never left his mouth. As soon as he started, Griffin threw him a glare so heated and dark that—paired with his unnaturally intense gaze—left Scott flinching away out of instinct.

Griffin caught up to Stiles outside the boy’s locker room. Without a word, he put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him inside.

“Don’t fucking push me!” Stiles shouted as he stumbled into the room, whipping around to glare daggers at Griffin. His fingers started twitching, a nervous tick urging him to grab or pull something in his agitation. He distracted them by reaching up and gripping his left shoulder where the claw marks started.

“Okay, so we’re here,” Griffin taunted. “We’re alone. You got your brilliant explanation now?”

Stiles sighed, attempting to relieve some of the fury he was still absorbing off Griffin. It didn’t work. “Aunt Dee put a spell on me!” he spit out, wanting to be done with this conversation and cutting right to the chase. “She put a spell on me so that anytime I was in the presence of a werewolf, I could only tell lies. It’s not my fault I lied to you. I couldn’t have told you the truth if I’d wanted to.”

Griffin pinched the bridge of his nose. “When did the spell wear off?” he asked, voice tight with frustration.

“Thursday.”

“Thursday? That was the day after you lied to my face about loving me.” The anger zapped right out of him and he sat down on the bench between the rows of lockers, putting his face in his hands. He already suspected that, but hearing it affirmed was so much worse. “I was so happy when I thought you loved me,” his voice was so quiet and broken. “Why would you even say that?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Stiles explained, shrugging. The rage seeped out of him as it was replaced by Griffin’s desolate sadness. “I said it… because-” He really didn’t want to finish that sentence. Not out loud. It was one thing to think it to himself. It was another thing for it to be hanging in the air, each of them knowing it. It was something else entirely to lay it all out on the table for Griffin to hear, right from his own mouth. “I said it,” he repeated, nearly in a whisper. “Because I didn’t mean it. Because I don’t. I don’t love you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Griffin turned his piercing eyes on Stiles again. “I spent all this time thinking ‘it’s okay. It’ll all work out because he loves me. That’s what’s important. He can be a witch. He can be whatever he wants, because he loves me. That’s all that matters.’ Why didn’t you just tell me as soon as you could tell the truth again?”

Stiles felt a little burning in his stomach at the line about witches. He thought they were past all of that. He brushed it aside for a moment to answer Griffin’s question. “How would I have told you that? ‘Hey! How are you? Oh me? I’ve been great. Right, you know the other day when I told you I loved you? Yeah, I was lying. Wanna go get lunch?’”

Griffin shrugged his shoulders, dragging a hand down his face then up into his hair. “Sure,” he said. “Why not? Anything would have been better than letting me believe it.”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles offered, sitting next to him but facing the other way. He reached a hand out to stroke Griffin’s back comfortingly, but he pulled the hand from his hair to brush him off.

“Sorry for what?” Griffin snapped, ire building back up again. “For not loving me? Sorry for lying? Or sorry that you got caught in your lie and now we both have to feel bad about it?”

“All of it. I didn’t know you were going to ask me that. If I had I…”

“Would have what? Lied anyways? Aunt Dee _put a spell on you_. There was literally no way to avoid this situation.”

Stiles didn’t have an answer. He wasn’t entirely sure how he had been planning to finish that sentence.

They both just sat there in silence for a while. Unsure of what to do or say to each other. Finally, Griffin looked Stiles right in the eye and whispered to him. “Can I ask you a question?” Stiles nodded at him, frowning. “Why don’t you love me?”

Stiles tightened his grip on his shoulder and reached his other arm across his body for his elbow to rest on. He kind of looked like he was trying to hold himself together. “I don’t know.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but he didn’t let Griffin know that. “I just, don’t love people easily I suppose.” That was the absolute truth. “I do care about you. A lot. That just doesn’t always equal love for me.” More truth.

Griffin wasn’t buying it. That may have been the truth, but that didn’t explain everything. However, something else did. “Are you sure that’s it?” he asked, mouth twisted into a sour frown. “Are you sure it’s not because of _Derek_?” He spit the name like it was the source of the bitterness in his mouth.

Stiles lifted his arms in an exaggerated shrug. What the fuck was he even talking about? “What about Derek? What does he have to do with any of this?”

“I know you’re in love with him. If you don’t love me because you’ve been with him behind my back, that’s _fine_. I’m not trying to force you to be with me! I just can’t take you lying to me about it!”

“I’m not in love with Derek!” No uptick in his heart. “And you think I’m fucking him behind your back? What the hell? How could you even think something like that?”

Griffin was getting aggravated. “I know you are. Just stop lying. I won’t even hold it against you, if you would just tell me the truth.”

“I’m not lying Griffin! What the fuck?” Stiles couldn’t believe his ears right now. “Where is this even coming from?” How the hell had this conversation even led to Derek?

Griffin rolled his eyes, temper flaring. “Why do you have to lie about everything? You’ve been lying with every word out of your mouth for a week straight. I know now, so why even keep pretending? Just _stop_! Tell the truth.”

“I _am_ telling the truth!” Stiles was starting to get pissed independently of Griffin’s emotions now. “What makes you so god damned sure that I’m not?”

“Because I can’t fucking tell!” Griffin stood up to face him, enmity boiling over. “How am I supposed to trust you if I can’t tell if you’re lying to me or not?”

Stiles stood as well, mirroring Griffin. “By just trusting me!” He shouted, sticking his arms out for emphasis. “Not everyone comes with a built in lie detector test, Griffin! They can still trust each other. Why can’t you just trust me?”

“I did trust you! Then you lied to me! You told me the worst fucking lie you could have possibly said and I _fell for it_. How am I supposed to trust anything you say after that?”

“I’m sorry, okay! I told you I’m sorry! I couldn’t help that-”

“But you let me keep believing it!” Griffin didn’t let him finish. “I don’t understand why. Why continue to manipulate me that way?”

“Manipulate?” Stiles dropped his arms, looking around awestruck for a moment. Griffin had just said the magic word. “Oh _fuck you_ Griffin!” He leaned forward slightly, into Griffin’s face. “How dare you even _say_ that? You’ve been manipulating me and every decision I’ve made since the day I fucking met you! Don’t even try to cry manipulation at me. You’re the fucking grand master at that.”

“This isn’t about me, Stiles.” Griffin gritted his teeth, subconsciously sending alpha signals for Stiles to back off. They went unnoticed. “This is about you and _Derek_!”

“This isn’t about Derek,” Stiles fired back. “This is about you and your Panselinos superiority complex!”

“What?”Griffin squinted at him in disbelief. He couldn’t even yell anymore he was so baffled by what Stiles was saying. “Superiority complex?”

“Yeah!” Stiles nodded condescendingly, no longer shouting either. “You know, your incessant need to feel like you’re the most powerful one in the room so that you can soothe your control issues.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up Stiles. That’s not true at all.” Griffin rolled his eyes and turned away from him, but Stiles wasn’t done yet.

“Oh yes it is. It makes perfect sense,” Stiles explained, taking a step closer. “When I was a human and you were a powerful alpha werewolf, everything was all hunky dory. I was a damsel in distress, and you were my furry superhero.”

“Shut up.” Griffin didn’t want to hear any of this.

“No. Our first argument happened when I admitted that I planned on igniting my spark. I would be powerful as a witch. Strong enough to contend with you even, but you couldn’t have that! That’s why you had to peg me down to size and try to convince me that I wouldn’t be good enough as a witch. You had to make me feel like I’d be _nothing_.”

“That’s not what happened at all-”

“That’s _exactly_ what happened. Then when I did ignite my spark, everything was still fine because I couldn’t use magic yet. In fact, you _knew_ why I couldn’t do magic, but didn’t even tell me because you didn’t want me to know! That way, I could still be your damsel in distress. Then Aunt Dee finally started teaching me to use my powers. I was so excited about it, but you couldn’t have been bothered to give two fucks if I handed them to you and asked for them back! You made me feel like shit! _Again_!”

“Shut _up_ Stiles.” Griffin was more than just mad. Listening to Stiles had him absolutely livid. Were Stiles a wolf, he would be able to smell the hostility that was building up under his frown, filling the room with an extra layer of stench. Instead, he was just absorbing it all, using it to add steam to his own argument.

“I learned to use my telekinesis, and you weren’t the most powerful one in the room anymore. In fact, we were basically on even ground. Anything you could lift with your super strength I could lift twice as much. As fast as you could run toward something, I could bring it back to me faster. You can smell the pheromones and chemosignals to tell you a person’s mood, I can feel it in the air.

“The only thing you had over me anymore was your ears. I can’t mimic that. Sure I could learn, but don’t know how yet. I can’t hear your heartbeat, but you can hear mine. You can tell when I’m lying. That was the last real advantage you have over me, and you don’t have that anymore.”

“Shut your mouth.” He was nearing his tipping point and his eyes werebleeding red, but that was meaningless to Stiles. Griffin wasn’t his alpha. He never would be. His virulence was only serving to drive Stiles’ desire to piss him off more. He stepped over the bench to crowd even closer, moving around him so they were facing each other again.

“That’s what this boils down to. It’s in your blood. That’s why the Panselinos pack hated the Hale pack. Because they were stronger than them, and they couldn’t have that! That’s why you didn’t want to reveal that you were a werewolf until the last second. Because it gave you an advantage over everyone else. That’s why you didn’t want to reveal how strong you were either. Because there goes _that_ advantage too. It’s all built out of this self-preservation instinct that always puts you on top. That—no matter what—keeps you in control.”

“I swear to God Stiles, if you don’t close your fucking mouth..."

"No, Griffin!" Stiles shouted taking another step closer. "Because you don't control me! You can't boss me around and control my choices like one of your nonexistent betas, and I’m so sick of you trying! You don’t get to manipulate this situation into working in your favor." Stiles came closer and closer, closing the distance between them. He could tell it was enraging Griffin even more, pushing him closer and closer to the point of no return. That rage merely egged Stiles on in response, pressing him forward until he was nearly flush with Griffin’s body.

“Back up!” Griffin threatened, using his alpha voice. He may as well have whispered it for all the effect it was having.

“No,” Stiles said defiantly. Heleaned his full body weight onto him to annoy him more. Griffin started growling, low and deep in his chest sending him a warning. Instead of heeding the warning, Stiles smirked up at him condescendingly. “What’s the matter?” He teased. “Is the lack of control getting to you? Is it _frustrating_ that you no longer have the upper hand?”

Griffin’s fury was radiating through Stiles more powerfully than any emotion he had ever felt before in his life. He idly wondered how Griffin could live with such powerful emotions riding so close to the surface. Just feeling it secondhand had Stiles so angry he could barely see straight. It took everything within him to resist the urge to reach out and strike a wall or tear into the lockers with his teeth. No wonder Griffin had control issues, it would take only the strictest discipline to keep such impulses in check.

In a final attempt to disengage Stiles, Griffin did the unthinkable and turned his head completely away from him. There was no way he was going to let him win by moving first. So instead he looked away completely, despite the fact that it exposed his neck. Intellectually, he knew Stiles wouldn’t go for his throat, but the wolf inside him couldn’t help but struggle against the gesture.

Stiles was still feeling the exact same rage and internal struggle that Griffin was—amplified by the fact that they were touching so much. So when Griffin broke their eye contact and turned away, Stiles couldn’t have that. He reached his hand up to grip him on the scruff of his neck and force him to look back at him, but his hand never made it that far.

Honestly, Stiles should have known it would happen. He had been pushing him so hard, exactly what else could he have been expecting? He knew enough about wolves and werewolves to know that Griffin wouldn’t have reacted well to him going for his throat. That didn’t necessarily make it his fault, but Stiles knows when enough is enough. He just has that little impulse control issue that really fucks him over sometimes. Feeling twice the animosity and fury as normal certainly wasn’t helping any.

Griffin was so wound up and tightly coiled it was a miracle he hadn’t snapped sooner. It was a true testament to his self-control that he’d lasted as long as he did. Stiles was pressed up against him, getting right into his face. He was silently issuing a challenge. A challenge that every drop of Panselinos blood in his body accepted, alpha or not. The smart thing to do would have been to just leave. Walk away and leave Stiles standing there. He’d actually thought about it. He’d even gone so far as to tilt his head away so he couldn’t see Stiles in his periphery anymore. But Griffin physically couldn’t leave. He’d have had an easier time pulling out his own eyeballs and eating them. Stiles was pushing and pushing, and every instinct, every impulse, every bell and whistle going off in his head was telling him the same thing: Push! Push back! Push harder! Push it the fuck down!

When Stiles put his hand on his neck that was it. His animal nature was way too powerful to let something like that slide. Especially not with the violence already frenzying beneath his skin, siphoning away his better judgment.

The growl in his chest ripped into a full on roar, fangs and all. In a movement too quick to have been tracked, he knocked Stiles’ hand out of the way, wrapping a hand around his shoulder and slamming him into the lockers. He pulled him back then pushed him down. He did it with so much force that Stiles caught a little air before smacking into the ground noisily.

Coming back to his senses, Griffin realized what he’d just done and it was as if the world shifted under his feet. His eyes returned to a jade green and he clapped a hand over his mouth, sinking to the floor in horror. He couldn’t believe he did that. He’d lost control and hurt Stiles! He rushed to his side, issuing apologies faster than he could think.

“Don’t touch me.” Stiles waved him away, sitting up painfully with a betrayed look in his eye.

Griffin froze in his place, arms still suspended in midair, reaching for Stiles. He hadn’t even shouted it. He’d said it so quietly, it was barely a whisper, but the venom in his voice was strong enough to burn the skin off Griffin’s hand if he came too close. It punched a hole, straight through his chest.

“Stiles-” he reached for him anyways, trying to help him up.

“I SAID DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He shouted that time. Griffin dropped his arms and his whole body sagged as he sat on the floor in incredulous defeat. He was so horrified with himself; how the fuck could he do that?

He wasn’t allowed much time to contemplate it because the door opened behind them and 5 sets of feet thundered into the locker room. Kira, Lydia, and Isaac rushed straight to Stiles’ side, helping him stand up despite his protests. He hissed and winced when Kira put a hand on his back, then cringed and turned away when Isaac gripped his shoulder, trying to brush them all off. Lydia threw Griffin a look so sharp he could practically see the daggers flying through the air. He wanted to melt into the floor.

Shit!How could he do that?What the fuck was wrong with him? How could he have lost control?

Scott and Danny came straight to Griffin, grabbing him by the jacket and the wrists, dragging him to his feet. They span him around, shoving him toward the doors, then closed ranks behind him, blocking his way to Stiles. “You need to get out of here,” Scott warned, eyes glowing gold. “Right now!”

Those gold eyes should have meant nothing to Griffin, but he knew better than to argue.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griffin comes to Stiles' house to attempt an apology.
> 
> Spoiler alert: It doesn't end the way he was expecting.
> 
> Just over average length chapter.

Chapter Break

Stiles was setting up the takeout on the table. He’d been feeling much too lazy to cook that day, so he bought Chinese with his Dad’s credit card. John had been pleased to see the haul of red meat and sodium. Unbeknownst to him, Stiles had gotten him all vegetarian dishes and plain brown rice instead of fried rice or chow mein. Boy was he about to be disappointed.

John noticed Stiles wincing and moving slowly as he reached for plates. He opened his mouth to ask about it when the doorbell rang. He gave Stiles his “this discussion isn’t over” face before going to answer it. Stiles tried to stop him and make him sit back down, but he shooed him away, insisting his mostly healed collar bone didn’t impair his ability to walk to the door. Stiles reminded him of the pulling and the opening, but John ignored him and kept walking.

He opened the door just fine and was surprised to see Griffin standing there with an uncharacteristically meek expression on his face. John invited him in, mentioning that they were eating. He joked that perhaps seeing Griffin would put Stiles in a good enough mood that he’d let his Dad get away with some extra mu shu pork. Griffin seriously doubted it, but he kept that thought to himself.

When they approached the table, Stiles was sitting with his back to the door, pouring sesame chicken onto his plate. “Who was it?” he asked, tilting his head over the back of his chair to see his dad. He saw Griffin approaching behind John and glared before turning back away. “What are you doing here?” he asked more sharply than necessary, reaching for the chow mein.

John sat across from his son with a curious frown, but Griffin just sighed, expecting the attitude. “Stiles. Can we please talk about what happened today?” Stiles slammed the chow mein back onto the table passive aggressively, spilling some.

“Well,” he looked back at Griffin with a sickly sweet smile. “You can go fuck yourself,” he said matter of factly. “So, there’s that…”

“Stiles!” John scolded him for the f-bomb. Stiles shrugged indifferently, barely containing the wince, then reached to replace the mu shu pork in his dad’s hand with steamed vegetables. Griffin stepped around his chair and kneeled beside him, practically in his lap.

“Stiles. Please.” Stiles ignored him, wondering aloud where he put the sodas.

“What’s your problem, kid?” John asked, totally confused about the level of sass coming from his son right now. The last he heard, those two had made up and were talking to each other again. In fact, he wished dearly that he hadn’t, but he’d literally heard them _making up_ just a couple of days ago. Why was Stiles so mad now?

“Stiles,” Griffin pleaded, gripping his knee firmly but not too tight. Just enough to shoot a volt of electricity straight up his thigh and right to his groin. Stiles glared down at the hand, viciously. He knew exactly what Griffin was doing. That was why he was kneeling instead of sitting next to him or still standing. Being above him would have come off as dominant and made him subconsciously appear imposing. It was also why he was so close to him at the moment. Appearing so meekly while seeking out contact as opposed to demanding it made him appear vulnerable, almost submissive even.

Even fucking now, that asshole was still trying to manipulate him!

Stiles wanted to be angry with Griffin, but he could feel the contrition reaching for him, pouring inside of him. Griffin reached up with his free hand to pull Stiles’ from the table and into his lap, creating another point of contact.

“Please,” Griffin begged. “Just let me apologize to you for what happened earlier.” Stiles could feel how sorry he was. It was vibrating in the air, traveling up his arm and settling like a weight on his chest. Griffin feels horrible. He’s so disappointed in himself. It hurts him to his very core to even _think_ himself capable of hurting his significant other, let alone realizing that he’d actually done so. He just wants to redeem himself, prove that’s not who he is. He isn’t ruled by his aggressive animal instincts.

Stiles knows that. Griffin’s hurting so much already, Stiles doesn’t need to punish him more. Stiles knows he wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t been pushing him so hard. Everyone has a breaking point and Stiles really went overboard, pressing him way past it. Sometimes his big mouth just gets him into trouble. Of course Stiles forgives him.

He gently removed his hand from Griffin’s and instead placed it in his hair. “Griffin…” he started remorsefully. He brushed back his long black locks with just a little too much hairspray and leaned down to rest his forehead against his.

The movement caused a sharp pain to travel down Stiles’ back as he stretched the bruised muscles further than he should have. It sparked up a little frustration and anger at the situation. With his own opposing emotions filling him up, Stiles was able to separate from the overwhelming sense of self-pity that Griffin had been channeling into him.

_Channeling into him_.

Griffin’s newest form of manipulation. Through physical contact, Griffin would actually pick and intensify which emotions Stiles picked up on as opposed to him just feeling them all naturally. Aunt Dee never warned him about it, and he imagined she didn’t actually know. She was so good at keeping outside emotions separate, that she probably never noticed if someone ever tried it on her and hadn’t even realized it was possible. No, this was something Griffin had learned all on his own and he’d been doing it from the moment Stiles first released his powers.

Sick of all of it, Stiles shot up to his feet, kicking the chair out from behind him. “No!” he shouted, ripping his hand away. Griffin looked up at him, shocked, then stood as well. He was looming over Stiles, trying to subconsciously push him into a more submissive position.

“Stiles!” John scolded again. His child was giving him whiplash. What the hell was his problem tonight?

“No.” Stiles repeated. “Just, fucking no!”

“Stiles, please just-” Griffin stepped back into Stiles’ space again, reaching for his hand. Demanding contact instead of seeking it out now. Stiles flinched away from him, turning his whole body away and tugging both of his hands out of reach.

John definitely noticed that gesture.

“No Griffin!” Stiles backed away from the table, edging around the chair so that it was between the two of them. Not that it really mattered. Griffin could step over it easily. His legs were so long, he probably wouldn’t even have to stretch much. Stiles really hoped he wouldn’t.

Stiles was getting mad. Across the table, his Dad’s temper was rising as not only was Stiles giving him a headache, but he was starting to draw his own conclusions about the pain in his son’s shoulders. The buildup of both sets of anger was enough to set him on edge and sap away all of his patience. He was just about fucking done with this whole day.

“Listen!” He shouted, ignoring his Dad’s presence and just saying what he could to end it all. “Forget about everything that happened this afternoon. Well,” he corrected himself, “all but one thing. You asked me earlier why I didn’t love you. I said I didn’t know and I lied.” Griffin made a face but Stiles cut him off. “Yeah, I know. You were upset at me about lying, then I lied right to your face yet again. I get it. You wanna know the _real_ reason why I don’t love you?

“I _could_ love you! I really fucking could, but I just can’t because I know what you’re doing!”

“What am I doing?” Griffin asked, feeling nowhere near as confused as his voice was making it sound. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“ _Constantly manipulating me_!” Then John stood up, looking back and forth between the 2 of them as their argument played out. “I think to myself, I could love you, but then I see how everything you do is so completely calculated and measured and I just _can_ _’_ _t_.” He placed his right hand on his left shoulder, just over the claw marks. It was a subconscious move that showcased exactly how anxious he was feeling. “Every word you say, every fucking move you make is premeditated to get something out of it. To get something out of me!”

“I don’t manipulate you Stiles-”

“Oh don’t play dumb. What was that, then?” He gestured toward the space they just vacated.

“What was what?”

“What you just fucking did. Crowding my space, looking up at me with those puppy dog eyes, and grabbing my knee because you know it’ll distract me. Channeling your regret into me, so instead of being mad at you, the only thing I’ll think of is how sorry you are. What was _that_? You were stringing me along so much that _I_ was about to apologize to _you_. Fuck you! I’m not sorry for what you did. I regret having pushed you into it, but _you_ did it! You made that choice!”

“Stiles,” Griffin tried to explain. “Me channeling my emotions into you, that’s just me trying to get you to listen to me.” Stiles knew better than that, he shook his head.

“Really? Then what about yesterday?” Once Stiles had the afternoon to go back and reflect on it, he’d realized that Griffin had been abusing his ability to absorb emotions since the moment he released his powers. “When you outed Scott to Aniyah? I thought that was a shitty thing to do and had no regrets outing you in return. Yet somehow when your leg touched me, I suddenly felt bad about it. Except no, because as soon as I pulled my leg away I didn’t give a shit anymore.

“Let’s not even get started on how you Jedi Mind Tricked me into giving Lydia my entire potion. That didn’t even require you to pour any emotions into me. All you had to do was bat those gorgeous green eyes at me. Then I couldn’t even think straight anymore. It’s always been like that. You’ve _always_ used those freakishly magnificent intense eyes as a weapon against me. That’s how we fucking met!

“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s just go back to Saturday.” Stiles was on a roll and Griffin couldn’t get a word in edgewise. “I could barely even feel anyone else’s emotions at the loft because I was so clouded up on yours. At first I hardly cared because I was so damn happy, until I thought about it and realized the only reason I was happy was because you were _forcing_ me to be. Forcing me to be too happy to give a shit about anything else going on.

“That’s not even the extent of your controlling behavior, either.” Stiles was getting angrier every breath he took and he found himself subconsciously stepping closer and closer to the chair, swinging his arms out violently as he spoke. At the same time, John was taking careful steps closer to his son. “Don’t think all your ridiculous scentmarking has gone unnoticed.”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “That’s just a-” Stiles whipped his hand through the air in frustration, screeching to cut him off.

“Don’t you dare try to call that an alpha thing. At best, that’s a _Panselinos_ thing! I’ve known plenty of alphas, and you’re the only one that’s ever _scentmarked_ me or anyone that I’ve noticed. You caught a day old whiff of Derek on me and you had to _cover_ me in your scent—marking your territory—to make yourself feel better. And that doesn’t even _begin_ to cover your obsession with making sure I smell like you.”

“Stiles,” Griffin cut in with his alpha voice, getting him to actually stop. He pulled an exasperated hand through his hair, before continuing in his normal voice. “All of this is beside the point-”

“No,” Stiles argued. “This is exactly the point. I’ve put up with a lot of shit from you-”

“Oh,” Griffin snapped incredulously, eyebrows hiking up in disbelief. “Like I haven’t put up with a lot of shit from _you_?”

Stiles ignored him and plowed on. “You came over here to apologize, to fix us.” He waved a finger back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t accept your apology. That was the last straw. I don’t _want_ to fix this.”

“You aren’t even giving me a chance to speak!” Despite the angry expression on his face, Stiles could feel Griffin starting to panic at those words, but he stood firm. He meant it. He wanted them to be done.

“You don’t need to speak. I don’t want to hear it. Your words mean nothing to me! I’m tired of being manipulated by you. It starts off as…” he waved a hand through the air dramatically as he thought of something, “… convincing me to go grocery shopping with your Aunt, but then it ends up with you convincing me to leave my pack behind and become a part of yours. I’m not going to do that!”

Griffin rolled his eyes so hard at that statement that he was in serious danger of blinding himself. “ _What pack_? You don’t even have an alpha! You can’t just throw together a group of supernatural teenagers and call it a werewolf pack!”

This was an argument they’d already had before, too many times. He was _definitely_ not having it again. Stiles dropped his arms to his sides and his eyes to the floor, sighing in defeat. He was done with this conversation. Shouting match. Whatever you wanted to call it. He was fucking finished.

“Get out!” he shouted with no preamble, pointing at the door.

Griffin didn’t know where that even came from. “Stiles!” he tried to argue.

“ _Just get the fuck out_!”

Then Griffin stepped over the chair and right into Stiles’ face. Nope. He didn’t have to stretch at all. Although, to be fair, he only stepped over the back of it. Not the seat or anything. Stiles took quick steps back, out of his reach, and John stepped into the vacated air in front of him protectively.

“Son,” he addressed Griffin in his “no nonsense” Sheriff voice. “It’s time for you to head home.”

Griffin deflated, giving up. He watched Stiles for a long moment with a heartbroken look on his face. But Stiles had his head turned, not wanting to meet those eyes. John stepped forward, ushering Griffin to the door, and he finally turned to leave.

Once he was gone, the tension drained from Stiles’ body like he’d been filled with water and someone had punched holes in his stomach. John wasn’t mad anymore, he was just very confused and really concerned. That was all Stiles was left feeling as they both thought over the events that had just transpired.

After a few moments of weighted silence, John reached down to pick up the chair Stiles had toppled, righting it, then turned to his son. He placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, then pulled it back when he felt rather than saw him try to hide a wince. “Stiles,” he looked him right in the eye with a particular brand of intense seriousness that Stiles had never seen reflecting back at him before. “Tell me the truth. I swear I won’t judge you. Just tell me… Did he do that?” He gestured to his shoulders. “I swear to God-” he had to cut himself off and curb his sudden spike of anger. “Did he do that? Did he hurt you?”

Stiles couldn’t answer that. Everything Aunt Dee had taught him about lies had drifted right out the window when his father looked at him like that. Instead, he dropped his eyes to the ground and brushed past him. “I’m going to bed.” He grabbed his plate and put it in the microwave, heading upstairs silently.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles seeks out a distraction from his shitty day. Later... stuff happens.
> 
> A little long. 7 and 1/2 pages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! It's that plot thing again! It's doing stuff! I was wondering where it had gone off to...

Chapter Break (Early Tuesday Morning)

“I’ll kick his ass,” Derek offered, angrily pacing back and forth near the windows at the back of the loft.

“Not necessary.” Stiles tried to discourage him from where he was sitting cross legged on top of the table with a spellbook on his lap and his “Big Bad” hoodie tugged over his eyebrows.

“No,” Derek corrected himself. “I’m going to kill him.” Derek was obviously pissed, but Stiles wasn’t really picking up on that much. Mostly he was absorbing a calm sense of resignation. As if a difficult decision had reached its conclusion and he was just waiting for things to fall where they may. That was infinitely more terrifying.

“You’re not going to kill Griffin.”

“Someone ought to! He put his hands on you, Stiles!”

“It’s not that big of a deal…”

Derek went from being nearly 10 feet away to slamming his hands on either side of Stiles and boxing him in, in under a second. “How is it not a big deal? He _hit_ you!”

Stiles didn’t even flinch. “I’m not even mad anymore.” The light of the rising sun was casting shadows on Derek’s face, emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes that indicated he hadn’t gotten any more sleep than Stiles had. Stiles idly wondered how long they would last before fading away.

After having spent 3 hours huddled under his blankets crying for reasons he didn’t understand, Stiles had packed up his laptop and all the research he had on the spell for Peter and lugged it over to the loft. It was empty, so he let himself in and dived headfirst into more research. Derek had only just shown up at the crack of dawn, surprised to find Stiles elbow deep in loose sheets of paper and spell books he’d stolen from Aunt Dee.

It was nearly 7 now, so Stiles had a lot of time to go over the events of last night, replay them in his head, and disassemble all of the words and their meanings. He’d meant everything he’d said at the time, but after having been able to think it over with only his own emotions, he’d come to this reasonable conclusion.

Derek didn’t think it was so reasonable. He glared at him like he was an idiot. That was something Stiles was all too familiar with.

“You aren’t telling me that you _forgive_ him are you?” Stiles shrugged, letting his shoulders down slowly after the sharp spike of pain it caused. Derek couldn’t believe it. “He slammed you into a locker and threw you onto the floor. How can you just forgive him?”

“Oh yeah,” Stiles snarked, rolling his eyes. “Because Griffin’s the only person that’s ever caused me bodily harm that I’ve forgiven. I’m pretty sure I can count on one hand the number of people I know who’ve never tried to hurt me, and I would still have fingers left.”

“Okay,” Derek sighed wincing a little as he conceded that point, knowing he was not one of those fingers. “But none of them were dating you. That makes it completely different.”

Stiles was going to make some remark about that being because he’s ‘hashtag forever alone,’ but thought better of it. “It’s not like I’m getting back together with him or anything,” he explained instead. “I’ve just decided that I’m not going to hold it against him. He’s a werewolf, and he lost control for a second. He wouldn’t be the first. Considering the majority of the ones I know have tried to _kill_ me when they lost control, I’d say he’s a step ahead of the curb.” He gave Derek a sarcastic smirk then buried his nose in his book to indicate he was done talking.

Derek looked up at him for a moment longer, hazel eyes searching his face, but Stiles was thoroughly ignoring him and revealing nothing. Sighing heavily, he reached for the chair Stiles had been ignoring and sat in it, putting himself near Stiles' right hand.

He reached for the book in front of him, disturbing the papers on top of it, and started skimming the pages. “So what exactly are you looking for?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I'm looking for incantations online and cross referencing them with what I have in the books.” Stiles explained, not taking his eyes off his book. “I know I don't have anything that would have the spell in it, that's why I'm looking online. But there is a ridiculous amount of websites touting 'real' spells,” he did finger quotes, “that are just a bunch of malarkey. So in order to weed out the fake ones, I'm comparing the easier spells on the websites to the ones I _do_ have in the books. If they match, or are at least close to matching, then I'll bookmark the page they’re from.”

“How do you know that all of the spells on a website are real?” Derek asked. “It could be that some of them are real, while others are fake.”

“That's true,” Stiles agreed, casting his book aside and reaching for his laptop. “That's why once I've got a list of 10 or so that seem reputable, I'm going to go digging around for information on it's content creators to see if there's any evidence that they are an actual witch.”

“Don't you think it would be difficult to find that kind of information?” Derek looked skeptical. “I mean, if what Deaton's told us is true, then witches are notoriously secretive and most are never discovered to be witches at all.”

“Maybe, but people reveal a lot more about themselves than they think, especially online. You just have to know what to look for.”

“How many sites have you gone through so far?”

“Seventeen.”

Derek nodded pensively. “How many have you found that seem authentic?”

“So far? Two...” He still had a long way to go.

Derek winced at the number, even more doubtful than before. “What if this doesn’t work? What if you can’t find a spell to work?”

Stiles huffed loudly, trying not to shrug again. “Then I’ll keep looking… Or we’ll have to ask for help.” Derek opened his mouth to argue, but Stiles shushed him with the wave of a finger. “You promised Scott you would ask for help if we couldn’t do this by ourselves-”

“I said I’d ask for help if _I_ couldn’t do it by _myself_ ,” Derek corrected.

“Same thing,” Stiles waved it off. “We can just ask Aunt Dee. I bet she could find us the spell if we just admit what we’re up to. She can probably keep a secret, and if it all works out, then it’ll hardly matter anymore if the others find out after the fact.” Stiles set his laptop aside again, gently removing the book from Derek’s hand to peruse for spells matching the site he just opened.

“You’re going to have to put this away soon,” Derek told him, stifling a yawn.

“Why?” Stiles looked up from the book, alarmed.

“You have to go to school.”

“Oh.” He visibly relaxed. “I’m not going.”

“Stiles,” Derek tried to scold him, but Stiles waved him off again.

“Not going.” His words were final, and Derek huffed in agitation, leaning his arms over the table.

“Then you can at least go to sleep. You’ve been up all night.”

“So have you,” Stiles argued.

“Yeah, and I’m tired. So I know you are.”

"There's no way I'm sleeping before I finish this," Stiles assured him. "But you can go ahead." He nodded toward Derek's bed.

Derek glared up at him, but he merely turned the page of his book noisily, blatantly ignoring him and his judgmental eyebrows. After a moment, Derek reached for another book, asking what spell he was looking for and setting about helping him find it.

They spent the next few hours situated at the table this way. At 9, Stiles got up to give his eyes a rest and make some coffee. They chatted and snarked back and forth for a bit while they drank it, then got back to work by 9:30.

A little after 10, Stiles noticed that Derek hadn’t turned any pages in a while. Checking on him, he realized that Derek had hunched over the table and laid his cheek on the book he’d been examining. He was knocked the fuck out asleep.

“Wimp,” Stiles scoffed under his breath, laughing. Sleep was for the weak. Or for the people who were _not_ trying to avoid thinking about all the rampant emotions involved in a messy breakup, but he tried not to focus on that too much.

He thought the spell in the book he was reading might have matched the one on the new site he’d been looking at, but wasn’t sure because it wasn’t word for word. He wanted to check, but didn’t want to put the book to far away when he grabbed his computer. Looking around him, there wasn’t much room for it nearby. Smirking to himself, he leaned forward and gently rested it against the side of Derek’s head, laughing quietly when he didn’t even stir. He continued with his research that way, discovering that the spell did match and adding the site to the list that had reached all the way up to 5.

By the time Derek woke up, Stiles had swapped the book out the book on his head 3 separate times. He’d even had to rearrange himself on the table after growing uncomfortable so that he was lying flat, with his feet in the air.

He had just added the 10th webpage to the list when Derek stood to stretch his muscles, stifling a yawn. He clapped his hands triumphantly. On to phase 2. Considering it was a little after noon, he felt a snack break to be in order.

A snack break turned into a Stiles-falling-asleep-on-the-counter-while-Derek-cooked-him-food break, and he didn’t wake again until 1:45. When he did, he was confused for a moment as he realized he was in Derek’s bed, but didn’t know how he got there or who had taken off his jacket and shoes. He mused to himself about that for a moment until he started thinking about all the time he’d lost. Panicking, he leapt out of the bed and ran around the loft like a headless chicken for a minute, grabbing his food from the microwave and setting it at the table, then searching for his jacket to stave off the chill without the blankets.

It wasn’t until he’d shoveled the plate into his mouth, gotten situated again, then finally opened up his laptop that he realized Derek wasn’t even there anymore. He had left a note stuck to the screen. It said that Derek had received a message from a contact in Portland that may have known what Peter had gotten up to while he was there. He had gone to meet up with them and should be back before 3.

Stiles found himself a lot more disappointed than he should have been by that. There wasn’t anyone else there for him to blame it on either. Those were his own emotions. Like usual, he tried not to think of it too hard and booted up his computer. He snatched the note off the screen and passive aggressively chucked it on the floor, angrily mashing on some mixture of chicken and vegetables he could hardly taste anymore.

He looked over his list of 10 webpages and decided to just start at the top. He found surprisingly little information about the first site creator. He was able to determine that it was a man, and he was from Arizona. There wasn’t a whole lot of water in Arizona. That didn’t rule him out completely, but it certainly wasn’t looking promising either. Stiles couldn’t help but think of how much faster this would have been if he had Danny to help him.

A bit more digging, and he was able to find a name and a Facebook page. The about section of his website claimed that he was an acupuncturist and runologist. His Facebook even had a few pictures showing off some rune tattoos that he’d gotten and what they’d meant. Stiles could tell at first glance that all the meanings he’d offered were wrong. According to the contradicting strokes that were used, one of them meant absolutely nothing at all. Clearly, this guy was a fake.

He scratched the name off the list and moved on to the next. He was able to gather plenty of information on the owners of the second website. It was run by 3 women in their mid-30s. They lived in Detroit and ran an occult shop/bookstore that specialized in ingredients for potion making, as well as homemade candles and incense. The store’s website had a special segment dedicated to explaining candle magic. There was another that talked about the benefits of aromatherapy. It all seemed like valuable and sage-like advice that Aniyah might be interested in, but there was still no concrete proof that these 3 women were _actual_ witches.

Stiles dug around some more until he thought he’d exhausted all of the resources he could think of. He still came up with nothing conclusive. The fact that everything was so ambiguous gave him a gut feeling that they were real, but he couldn’t base the success of their spell on a gut feeling. He wrote a series of question marks by their name, then moved on.

He glanced up at the clock, seeing that he’d spent so much time on the 3 women from Detroit that school was just getting out. Derek should have also been there already.

He reached into his pocket for his phone, but stopped, realizing that he’d never gotten it back from Griffin. Fan-fucking-tastic. That was a conversation he was _not_ ready to have. He couldn’t even text Scott to ask him to get it for him. Ugh. He rolled his eyes and pushed it to the back of his mind as he got back to work. He could worry about it later.

After a long bout of digging and searching and nearly giving up, Stiles discovered that the third time was indeed the charm. He had already been slightly partial to that particular website because everything he searched for turned out to be legit. Even the powerful reversal spell he’d found had been long, eloquent, and came with both English and Latin translations. When he discovered that the guy who’d written it lived in New Orleans (near water _and_ in a part of the country known for its rich supernatural history), that put it even more in his favor.

It took a lot of digging to find the man’s name: Dempsey Guillot. Dempsey did a very good job of keeping himself anonymous online. When he did find it, it was on an old message board from 2006 where someone else had called him by his full name and didn’t bother to delete it after he corrected them. Stiles had only even found it because the email used on the message board was the same that was used on the website.

Once he’d found Dempsey’s name, Stiles was able to locate his Facebook. He cursed quietly when he saw that it was mostly private. All he could see was his profile picture, his likes, and tagged pictures. He could also see that for his occupation, he said that he was a necromancer and a voodoo king. He was a handsome young African American man with café au lait skin, light green eyes, and a mischievous smile.

That smile seemed to taunt Stiles, telling him he couldn’t win. He wouldn’t figure this one out. Not one to take no for an answer, Stiles looked around through everything he could. The likes didn’t reveal very much, except that he’d apparently eaten alligator before, had horrible taste in movies, and wonderful taste in women. The tagged pictures were seeming just as useless. Stiles had made it to the very end of the album and he was about to give up when he saw it.

The last picture was one of a group of people, drinking and laughing. Judging by the looks on their faces, most of them were unaware that the photo was being taken, Dempsey included. He had a martini glass raised in the air. His arm was outstretched, exposing a small pentagram tattoo on his wrist as well as a silver bracelet with a single red beryl sparkling in the middle.

The gem was rather large, at least the size of 2 of Stiles'. Natural red beryl doesn’t come that size. That meant it was either a fake, or it was created by magic. Stiles would bet his entire college savings that it was sanguine red beryl. That meant Dempsey was an actual witch and his spell was the real deal, just like he’d predicted.

Stiles whooped excitedly for a moment before scrambling to find a blank piece of paper. Derek didn’t have a printer for him to use, so he had to handwrite the spell. He scribbled down the step by step directions and drew a sample of the rune he’d picked on the bottom half. He was so excited that they could finally get this thing over and done with, and now that paper contained everything he needed.

He heard the door slide open behind him and he grew even happier now that Derek was back to share in his joy.

“I figured it out!” Stiles exclaimed without bothering to turn around. “I found everything and it’s perfect. We can return Peter to the corpse that he is and finally be rid of him, once and for all.” He leapt off the table, waving the page he’d written on through the air as he turned to smile proudly up at Derek.

Derek was still standing in the doorway, mouth turned down and eyebrows drawn together. What was his problem? Stiles thought he would have been happy that they could finally be finished. He didn’t need him to be ecstatic or anything, but some type of positive response was certainly called for.

Derek opened his mouth as if to say something to him. Instead of words, a thick trail of blood poured from his lips and pooled on the floor.

Stiles wanted to run over to him and see what was wrong, but the smug sense of satisfaction with a thin layer of underlying disappointment he was feeling from Derek’s direction kept him pinned to the spot. He winced when Derek let out a strangled gasp and coughed up even more blood. Gasping and choking more, he keeled over but he never reached the ground. Behind him, Peter was holding him up with a hand buried in his back. Derek gasped loudly one final time before Peter made a sharp movement with his wrist and the noise cut off, his body going limp.

“What a shame…” Peter sang, casting Derek’s lifeless body aside with a heavy thud. “I had really hoped I could convince you to join my side. But it appears that you’re too smart for your own good, Stiles.” He examined the blood on his clawed fingers for a moment before reaching down to wipe it on Derek’s shirt, tearing it off of him in the process. “It is rather disappointing.”

XxxxxxxxxX

It was in first period English when Lydia first heard it. It was a crackling like static right in her ear, instinctively making her want to twitch. She looked around the room to see if anyone else had heard it, but everyone was busy taking notes. She glanced over to Scott, but he was occupied, texting under his desk. Then as suddenly as the noise started, it stopped without any warning or preamble. She cast her eyes around the room one final time, searching for the source of the noise. Still finding none, she sighed heavily and turned back to her work.

The next time she heard it was during passing period between 3rd and 4th period. She wasn't entirely sure it was the same thing. It was so quiet, as if it were far away. It sounded a bit more like humming, but after zoning in on it, she realized that it was the same static. It cut off again, just like last time. She was dying to find out what it was.

The next time she heard it was during lunch. She was sitting next to Scott while he tried to call Stiles. He wanted to check up on him and he hadn't been answering his texts all day. The same time that he put the phone to his ear, Lydia slammed her hands over her own.

All of a sudden, the static was so loud that it drowned out every other noise in the cafeteria. It was so overwhelming it felt like steel wool being scrubbed against her brain. She couldn't even see straight anymore. It hurt so much, she wanted to scream. But she couldn't. Not in the middle of school. Not with all these faces to bear witness, and ask questions, and judge her.

She waited the noise out until it cut off, leaving a loud ringing echoing in her ears. She didn't move until the ringing finally stopped. She took a few calming breaths to try and bring her heart rate down.

It wasn't until she felt a firm hand against her back that she realized she was hunched over in her chair, whimpering with her face buried in her lap.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, rubbing her back soothingly.

Lydia sighed heavily and sat back upright. “I heard something… it was so loud.” She brushed her hair out of her face and over her shoulder.

“What did you hear?” he asked cautiously. Danny, Kira, and even Isaac were watching her carefully as well.

“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “It just sounded like static. That’s it.”

“You didn’t see anything?” Isaac asked.

“No!” she snapped. “It was just static. That’s it. There wasn’t anything else. I have no idea what it could be.”

“Maybe it’s related to when you were hearing things on Friday but nothing came of it,” Kira offered.

“The rogue alpha?” Danny asked. Lydia just shrugged.

“If that’s the case,” Scott frowned, “then that means Derek’s not handling it.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is worried that he can't find Stiles and decides to check to see if he's with Derek.
> 
> A little more than average length.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not 100% confident with the pacing with this one. But I'm not sure how to fix it without adding a whole bunch of unnecessary mumbo jumbo. At least I don't think it should confuse you. It's just a lot closer to the almost not!fic style that I wrote the first one in. The kind I was trying to avoid this time around. It's more like halfway there, halfway not. Grrr. You guys just read it. What do you think?

Chapter Break

“I can’t talk,” Derek’s voice crackled through the phone. “I’m doing something right now.”

It was after 5th period when Scott had given Derek a call. He was the last one in the hallway, having waited for everyone else to leave. He lingered by a row of windows with the phone to his ear.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked. “Does it have anything to do with that rogue alpha you were supposed to be taking care of?”

“Actually it does.” Derek started to say something else, but the connection was weak and Scott could only hear a few of the words he said. He managed to pick out “in the woods,”“done soon,”“call you back if I need help.”

“You’re breaking up!” Scott warned him, raising his voice. “Hey, have you seen Stiles?” he tried to ask, but his phone hung up with a dialogue box reading “call failed.”

“McCall!” Coach Finstock shouted around a handful of Doritos, making Scott jump. “If you don’t get your ass back to class right now, I’m making you the waterboy and Greenburg’s taking your place as captain of the lacrosse team!” He punctuated his statement by cramming another chip into his mouth before continuing down the hall, giving Scott the stink eye.

Scott huffed noisily and put his phone away, shuffling to his 6th period.

By the end of the day, Lydia had heard the static 2 more times, neither time as loudly as in the lunchroom. Each time was quiet, once it was nearly imperceptible.

Scott tried calling his mom to check up on Stiles. He knew she was spending the day at the Stilinskis’ again, so she must not have been able to convince him to come to school. A brief conversation and he discovered that he hadn’t been home all day. He was gone before Melissa got there and before the Sheriff woke up, so they both assumed he’d went to school.

Now Scott was starting to get worried. At first he was just concerned about him locking himself up in his room and moping, but now he was certified missing. What with Lydia hearing things all day, there was a serious possibility of some kind of foul play here.

Lydia and Kira had gone ahead to Malia’s house as usual, and Danny and Isaac were at lacrosse practice. So Scott was alone, standing near his bike in the mostly empty parking lot. There were only a few stragglers and some teachers left behind. One of the stragglers, he noticed was in a big black Durango. Not sure who else to ask, Scott headed over.

“Griffin,” he called through the window, not even bothering to raise his voice. He knew the alpha would hear him just fine.

Griffin was sitting in the front seat, strapped in as if he were ready to go, but he had his arms folded over on the steering wheel and was leaning with his head on top of them. “What?” he asked grumpily, not moving from his spot.

“Have you seen Stiles today? I think he might be missing.”

Griffin huffed in frustration. “I haven’t heard from him since last night. Why don’t you ask _Derek_?” he grumbled bitterly.

Scott had tried to ask him earlier, but the phone cut out. He supposed he could go over to his house. In fact Stiles might even be there. He wasn’t really sure where else he would be if he had left on his own. He really hoped he’d left on his own. “Maybe. I’ll try that.”

He turned to walk away, but stopped, casting a glance at Griffin. Scott might not have seen, but he heard almost everything that happened yesterday. He could see that Griffin was obviously upset, but Scott had no sympathy for him. “You know,” he started. “You brought this on yourself. This thing with you and Stiles.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Griffin deadpanned.

“I’m just saying. I don’t know all the details of you guys’ relationship, but it seems like it was for the best that you end it anyways.”

“Go away, Scott.” Despite the fact his face was still pressed into the steering wheel, Griffin’s tone suggested that he was imparting some invaluable piece of wisdom upon Scott’s ears.

Sighing one last time, Scott climbed onto his bike and put on his helmet, heading toward Beacon Heights and Derek’s apartment. The ride over there was long with the evening traffic just starting up, but he was able to pass between the cars and cut the time down some.

When he got there, he spotted Derek’s Toyota and the jeep, sighing with relief. He was going to smack Stiles for worrying him so much and not answering his phone. He rode up the elevator in silence, but as he ascended the stairs toward the door, he was surprised to only hear the sound of one weak but erratic heartbeat. Then, that was when the smell hit him. Blood. A lot of blood, and it belonged to Derek!

Panicking, he flung the door open and rushed inside. He didn’t make it very far before he slipped in a pool of blood. He caught himself with a hand before his whole body landed in it. Standing up slowly, his eyes followed the trail to the wall beside the door. Derek was leaned against it, eyes closed, but panting heavily.

“Derek,” Scott rushed to his side, gently shaking him to awareness. “What the hell happened? Where’s Stiles?”

“He got away,” Derek croaked, coughing to clear his throat of dried blood.

“Stiles left? He left you here?” That was so unlike him. Stiles could never leave Derek behind.

Derek shook his head. “He was taken,” he amended. “They got away. Call the others,” Derek ordered. “We have to find him.”

Scott nodded obediently, pulling out his phone. He called Kira, knowing she was with Lydia and Malia. He directed her to get Danny and Isaac and have everyone come to the loft. The boys were still at practice, so they wouldn’t hear their phones.

“You have to come as fast as you can!” he added. “This is an _emergency_ and we’re losing time!”

Scott tried to help Derek to the couch while Kira rallied the troops in Beacon Hills. When she got to the high school, she and Lydia ran right onto the field, interrupting the drills coach had the team going through while Malia waited in the idling car.

“Martin! Yukimura!” Finstock screamed, blowing his whistle for a ridiculous amount of time while they trotted over to numbers 6 and 14. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? _Get off my field_!”

Kira ignored him, ushering a confused Danny toward the locker rooms. “What’s going on?” Danny asked.

“We need to get to the loft, _now_ ,” Kira explained. She didn’t have any more details, she just knew they needed to hurry.

Lydia didn’t even bother speaking to Isaac, she just grabbed him by the helmet and dragged him behind her. Knowing better than to argue, he followed along obediently.

“Hey! Get back here!” Coach shouted. “You can’t just take them!”

“Coach! It’s an emergency!” Kira tried to reason with him.

“We got a game coming up and my players need practice. So I don’t care if you’re at DEFCON 1 right now! They’re staying their asses right here!”

“We _are_ at DEFCON 1 right now!” Kira pleaded.

“Oh shit,” Danny cussed. Having heard the warning, both boys hustled to the changing rooms faster. The girls trailed behind them, leaving a confused lacrosse team and angry coach hurling profanities in their wake.

After changing quickly, the boys rushed to Danny’s car and both groups raced to the loft. Scott hadn’t been forthcoming with the details of what was going on, so once they made it out of the elevator and started up the stairs, Isaac froze. He could hear 2 steady heartbeats, one elevated slightly above the other, but the smell of so much of Derek’s blood was paralyzing in its horror.

“What is it?” Danny asked.

“Blood,” Malia answered him, pushing ahead to rush inside. Kira was on her heels, but Isaac was still frozen and Danny pulled out his phone.

“I’m calling Stiles again,” Danny announced as he dialed the number, hurrying inside as well. Those words seemed to rouse Isaac from his numbed state and Lydia was left behind as he ran after the others.

She was at the top of the steps when she started to hear the static again. It wasn’t loud enough to split her ears, but it did make her wince and hunch her shoulders against the sound. She continued to the door more quickly, but every step she took amped up the static louder.

She wanted to back away and run down the stairs, but instinctively, she knew she should continue forward. She finally stepped across the threshold, but didn’t find herself in Derek’s house when she did. Or rather, she _was_ in Derek’s house. She wasn’t in his loft.

Her eyes darted around the empty room, taking in the soot stained walls and floor. Everything was black, and covered in a thick layer of dust. The longer she stood there, the louder the static was getting. The volume ratcheted up, higher and higher, until she had to clap her hands over her ears. She could feel the scream building up in her chest, just like it had in the lunchroom. This time, instead of forcing it back down, she let it out.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting the scream rip from her lungs to pierce the air around her for a long minute. When her high pitched keening tapered off into echoes, she pulled her hands to her sides and opened her eyes. She was still in the Hale house, but the static had become a more distinct sound. It was the roaring hum of a thousand crackling flames as they surrounded her on all sides.

She span around, terrified. The entire building had gone up and pieces of the roof were falling down over her head. She tried to run, dodging the pieces, but the floor sagged and collapsed beneath her. She fell into the basement, trapped with more fire and no escape. She was on the ground covered in cinders and broken bits of plywood, choking on the thick cloud of smoke clogging the air.

To her far left, she could just barely make out the outline of a body, scorched and blistered, skin turned black. It was still engulfed in flames and disintegrating, turning to dust bit by bit. She couldn’t tell who it was. She tried to lean closer, but suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder, jerking her back. Then everything was gone.

She was back in the loft, no smoke, no flames, and no burning body. She was still on the floor in the middle of the room, but Malia was holding her up and Kira was kneeling by her feet.

“Are you okay?” Malia asked. She nodded at her as she caught her breath.

“What’d you see?” Scott asked, carefully. He and Danny were sitting next to a bloodied and angry looking Derek draped across the couch. His shirt was off and it looked like Scott had been sewing up an open gash on his back.

Lydia sat up completely, but was still leaned into Malia. “The Hale house,” she answered, shaking her head and frowning. “It was on fire, but I don’t know why I would have seen that. It happened so many years ago, what does it have to do with now?” She never fully understood her visions, and now was definitely following along with that trend.

“I don’t know,” Scott shook his head, returning his focus to the needle and Derek’s back, “but if it’s not helping us, then we can’t figure it out right now. We need to find Stiles.”

“Peter took him,” Derek cut right in.

“What?!” The word echoed around the loft, said by 6 different voices. Scott froze again amidst his threading. Derek hadn’t told him any of this.

Derek sighed, figuring he’d better start from the beginning so he didn’t have to tell this story twice. “Back at the slaughterhouse with Mariah, Peter was the one who killed the monster alpha, not Griffin. He’s also the one who attacked Stiles.”

“Does Stiles know that?” Kira asked carefully.

“He’s known this whole time. At first he didn’t remember, but when he did I asked him not to tell anyone.”

“So Peter’s an alpha again?” Scott thawed out enough to finish patching Derek up. He may have been subconsciously tugging on the needle a little bit harder than he was before.

“Yes,” Derek sighed, accepting the pain as his punishment. “I’ve been tracking him since everything went down that day. The rogue alpha that’s been going around is Peter. Stiles has been helping me put together a spell to get rid of him that doesn’t cause a transfer of the alpha spark. He figured it out, but Peter somehow caught on to what I was doing. He tricked me into meeting him in the forest today. That’s when he attacked me and brought me back here, but when he caught Stiles waving around our plan to kill him, he took him and left me here for dead.”

Lydia stood up, heading over to the table that was still covered in Stiles’ things, Malia trailing after her. “Did he leave it here?” She asked, already digging through his things.

“It was on a sheet of loose leaf paper. He had it in his hand when Peter dragged me in. I have no idea if he kept it or not.”

Malia, then Kira helped search the desk as well, while Scott finished up with Derek. Danny assisted Scott with applying antiseptic to Derek’s wounds. That left Isaac standing around feeling useless. He sat in one of the spare chairs across the room, waiting to be told what to do.

From where he was sitting, Isaac was the only one who could see that there was a single piece of crumpled paper that seemed to have rolled behind the couch. He knew that Derek was a typically tidy person, so undoubtedly Stiles had been the cause for the paper getting there.

He glanced around the loft quickly, eyes lingering on the table where the girls were flipping through pages of books and shuffling through papers with increased frustration. That table was the only place with any of Stiles’ things on it. So how had the paper gotten all the way over there? Appeasing his curiosity, he walked over to pick it up, unfolding it to see what was inside.

“It’s not here!” Lydia shouted. “We can’t find it anywhere. He must have taken it with him.”

“No he didn’t,” Isaac argued, reaching over the couch to show the paper to Derek. It had the incantation and all the directions for the spell scrawled in Stiles’ sloppy handwriting. The rune at the bottom was the same one that Stiles had waved at him the night before.

If Peter knew what it was, then he would have never let Stiles put it down. Knowing better than to actually keep it on him, Stiles must have crumpled it and tossed it when Peter wasn’t looking. He would have known someone would come to look for him or Derek eventually and they would be able to figure out how to utilize the spell.

The girls came over from the table, crowding around the couch to see it too.

“What language is that?” Malia asked.

“Latin,” Lydia answered automatically. She shook her head. “This looks really complicated. I doubt it’ll work if just anyone tries to do it.”

Scott frowned unhappily. “That means we’ll have to call Aniyah.” He didn’t want to involve her in their supernatural crime fighting if it wasn’t necessary, let alone have to stress her out with their own personal problems. With Stiles in danger and Peter at full alpha capacity, it was definitely necessary.

“Does that say Derek’s _blood_?” Danny asked, making a squeamish face.

“Yup,” Kira winced at Derek. He was already so hurt, she hated to have to hurt him more to get blood for the spell. He was already looking dangerously pale.

Seeming to read her mind, Malia gestured to the doorway, where Derek’s blood was spread all over and pooling in a dip in the 2nd stair. “I guess it’s a good thing it’s all over the floor,” she pointed out.

“Are we really going to have to get that?” Danny winced. He didn’t have a sensitivity to blood the way Stiles used to, but the idea of gathering it off the floor so they could later paint it on somebody’s face was grossing him out.

“It’s either that or kill Derek,” Scott insisted.

They each nodded in understanding, but nobody made a move to collect it.

Lydia huffed noisily. “Isaac,” she snapped. “Go to the kitchen and get me a turkey baster and a jar.” He fetched her the utensils she asked for and she took them to the stairs. “Somebody’s about to owe me a new pair of shoes,” she grumbled under her breath as she kneeled with the baster at the ready. She began the definitely disgusting task of gathering the cold and nearly coagulating blood off the steps, surprised at how much she was actually able to get. It was a miracle Derek wasn’t dead already.

“I just don’t understand what it is Peter’s after,” Kira thought out loud. “I mean, you guys told us he went on a killing spree before because he wanted revenge, right? But why attack Stiles? I don’t see what he gets out of that. What does he want now?”

Malia winced guiltily, chewing her bottom lip. When it appeared no one had an answer for Kira, she sighed heavily. “Um,” she started. “I have a confession to make.” All eyes turned to her—even Lydia’s across the room—and she looked down at the floor under the intense pressure of the pack’s gaze. “I uh… I think I know what Peter’s planning.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malia admits the truth about Peter. Later, we catch up to Peter and Stiles.
> 
> Just over regular length, but lots of dialogue.

Chapter Break

“How would you know what Peter was planning?” Scott asked precariously.

“Because he might have told me,” Malia explained.

“When?” Kira asked. “You just met him two days ago.”

“Actually, that’s not true,” she admitted, shuffling her feet nervously. “I met Peter in November.”

“What?” Scott was so confused.

“He approached me outside of my house one afternoon, and he’s been coming to see me every now and then since.”

“How come you never told us?” Lydia rejoined the pack with her small jar nearly half full.

“He told me not to. He knew that I knew you guys. He even told me that he bit Scott. But he never told me any of the other stuff he did. He didn’t tell me he was my father either.”

“What _did_ he say?” Derek asked.

“He told me that he’d lost his family and that he’d been hurt for six years. He said he wanted to build a pack again. That he had land up in Oregon where he would take them. He said I could roam free as a coyote there and turn back into a human as much or as little as I pleased.”

“You were going to go with him?” Kira asked quietly.

Malia shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought about it, but he never actually asked me. He just made it seem like he was going to. I figured I wouldn’t have to make up my mind until he did ask.”

“But you wanted to?” Danny looked at her sympathetically.

“Maybe,” she huffed. “The way he talked about it, it seemed kinda perfect. So yeah, I guess. I probably would have gone with him. At first.” She looked up at Derek with a ferocity in her eyes when they met his. “But I had no idea about any of the stuff he’d done. I didn’t even know what he’s been up to this whole time.” She kept her eyes locked on him. She wanted Derek to believe and understand that her words were real. “Until Saturday, the last time I saw him was last year. I was starting to think he’d gone without me.”

“He did,” Derek informed her. Malia looked scandalized for a moment. “When I followed him, that’s where he went. I’m not sure what he was doing up there. The local pack didn’t want me on their territory, so I lost track of him for a while. That was when he was able to come back down here without my noticing.”

Malia was so disappointed in herself for falling for it. She wanted to justify it. He did come back. He could have been coming back for her. No. She didn’t need the justification. She didn’t need to make herself feel better about it, he’d _tricked_ her. He was a bad person, just as everyone had said. Now she’s just felt bad for believing in him.

“Peter’s a snake,” Lydia spoke up and Malia turned her gaze upon her. “That’s just what he does. He manipulates people to weasel what he wants out of them, with no regard for them whatsoever.”

“And when he can’t manipulate you into it,” Scott finished, “He outright controls you.”

“He’s done it before,” Derek adds. “He’ll do it again a million times over if it gets him his results. That’s just the person the fire turned him into. It burned the soul right out of him.”

“That’s why we have to do the spell,” Danny nodded. He hadn’t experienced Peter’s insanity firsthand, but he knew well enough the damage he’d caused and would continue to cause. “He’s supposed to be dead already, we just need to fix it.”

“I still don’t understand,” Kira interjected. “Why try to kill Derek but not Stiles? Why take him instead?”

“He wants Stiles in his pack,” Malia answered. “He told me that he wanted Derek and Isaac too. He thought convincing Isaac would be easy and would make him happy. He didn’t really know if he could ever convince Derek, but he was family so he wanted to try. And he wanted Stiles to be his second. He thought all he needed was to turn him and he wouldn’t even need convincing.”

“Why me?” Isaac asked, confused. He’d never liked Peter from the beginning, he didn’t know why Peter would want him in his pack.

Derek was stuck on something else. “Peter wants to turn Stiles?” he asked, growing a little panicked. Malia nodded at him. “Stiles is a witch now. If he bites him, he’ll kill him!”

“And you just said the he has no idea,” Scott rushed to his feet, fearful for his friend. “We can’t let him bite Stiles! We need to find them!”

Nodding, Derek started doling out responsibilities to get the show on the road. “Okay, Lydia and Malia. You guys go track down Aniyah and convince her to come help us. Kidnap her if you have to. We can ask forgiveness later. Danny and Isaac, we need to get some wolfsbane. The only place I know of to get any is with Deaton. So Danny, you’re in charge of handling it until we get to Aniyah. Scott…”

Scott had finished with the antiseptic and was now cleaning up the first aid kit bitterly. Derek knew that he blamed him for getting Stiles kidnapped and putting his life in danger. Derek blamed himself too. That was why he had to fix it.

“I need you and Kira to go to Griffin’s house-”

“Why?” Scott jerked his head up, confused.

“As much as I hate to admit it,” Derek sighed, “we need Griffin’s help. Peter’s a deadly fighter and he’s at maximum strength. We’re going to need as much help as we can get to hold him down long enough for Aniyah to do the spell. Then, if things go sour-” as they too often did “-then we can rely on his strength to overpower him and just take him out traditionally. He’s not going to let us walk away from this, he has to be handled one way if not the other.”

Scott nodded, not happy but understanding. “Wait,” he realized something. “Somebody should stay behind to keep an eye on you.”

Derek shook his head. “I’m going with Danny and Isaac. Maybe Deaton can give me a cortisone shot or something.”

“Derek,” Scott thought he was nuts. “You can barely stand. How are you going to make it in a fight with Peter? You need to stay here and get better.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m doing that,” Derek brushed the thought aside, pressing on. “While you’re there, get Stiles’ phone and have Aunt Dee locate him with it-”

“Wait!” Kira frowned in exasperation. “Griffin has Stiles’ phone?”

“That explains why we’ve been calling and texting him all day and he hasn’t been picking up,” Danny rolled his eyes.

Lydia widened her eyes as she was struck with a sudden epiphany. “Scott, were you texting him in English this morning?”

Scott shrugged, “Yeah…”

“What about during passing period between third and fourth?”

“I texted him then,” Kira offered.

“And Scott called him at lunch,” Lydia mused. “What about after that?”

“I texted him before fifth period started,” Danny answered.

“And I did again in the middle of sixth,” Scott replied. He didn’t know what Lydia was getting at.

“Then Danny called him again right when I came into the loft,” she supplied.

“I don’t get it,” Malia spoke up, not understanding the significance. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Every time someone sent a message to Stiles, I heard the static. Then it was overwhelmingly loud when someone tried to call him.” The static was leading her to Stiles. When Lydia saw the fire in her vision, it must have been because of Peter—who was with Stiles. She nodded, realizing that she had to be right. “Guys, I think Peter took Stiles to the old Hale House.”

The pack was suddenly abuzz with excitement at the thought of knowing where he was. Everyone except Isaac.

“But,” he started quietly. “You screamed when you saw the Hale house.” Everyone turned to look at him. “You only scream when someone is going to die.”

“She saw the house when it was on fire,” Derek explained, voice passionate but firm. “Eleven people died when it was on fire.” That did seem to explain everything. He shook his head, trying not to focus too much on the memory. “If he’s at the house, then once we’re finished, we should all meet up just outside the school. It’s far enough away to meet up without raising any alarm, but close enough to still be able to sneak up on him without much of a walk.”

Everyone agreed, leaving to tend their duties. After donning a shirt and leather jacket, Derek was the last to go. Just as Scott had said, he could hardly stand. He needed both Isaac and Danny’s help to even make it to the door.

“Derek.” Scott stood on the steps, blocking their way. “Just stay here. How are you even going to make it through the woods? Let alone a fight with Peter?”

Derek flashed his blue eyes at Scott. “There’s no way in hell I can just sit back and take a nap while Stiles is out there-”

“We can do this ourselves, Derek. You’re going to kill yourself!”

“This is my fault Scott! I’m the one who told Stiles to lie. It was my blood that brought Peter back. I left him alive all this time when I should have killed him as soon as he came back. I’m the one who put Stiles in this situation. After everything that’s happened to him, this is because of me. You can’t just expect me to sit around and not try to fix this! I’m not going to let him die and you’re not going to stop me from being there. Now move out of my way! We’re wasting time!” He flashed his eyes at him again and took a step forward, dragging Danny and Isaac behind him.

The whole thing might have been a bit more convincing if his eyes had stayed alight instead of flickering out. Derek didn’t have enough strength to keep them lit and he was only getting weaker as he went. Knowing he was right, Scott let him pass anyways.

XxxxxxxxxX

“Why are you even doing this?” Stiles asked frantically, pulling against the ropes. It was useless. It was chaffing his wrists more than anything, but he couldn’t make himself just sit still. The blood from the wound on his hairline was pouring into his eye and forcing him to close it against the burn.

“Power,” Peter answered simply, not bothering to look up from the mess of papers he was looking at on the charred remnants of what could have once been called a desk.

“Fuck that!” Stiles complained. “I am so sick of the bad guys doing things in a quest for _power_. What the hell does that even mean? Power for what? What could you possibly need a shit load of power for? Unless you plan on selling it and putting the local power plant out of business, that excuse is fucking meaningless to me!”

A shot of rage spiked through the air and Peter stood up, storming over to Stiles. He gripped Stiles’ chin to pull his head up as he leaned downward, close enough that Stiles could feel tiny drops of spit accosting his cheeks as Peter hissed at him.

“Power, Stiles!” He seethed, unknowingly pouring his anger right into him from where his hand connected with Stiles’ jaw. “Power for the sake of power. I don’t need anything else!” Despite the blood, Stiles glared back at him with a fierceness in his eyes to match Peter’s. It enraged the alpha even more, merely serving to fire Stiles up as well. “All those years ago,” he started, teeth grit together. “Kate snuck into our home and burned it to the ground. I was able to get Cora out, but I couldn’t help anyone else. I was _weak_! _Powerless_!” He spat the words as if it burned his mouth just to say them. “I watched everyone burn to death around me. I could _smell_ everyone I cared about as they were charred down to the bone. Do you know what that smells like Stiles?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I could hear them screaming in agony! Crying! Calling my name! My brother. My so-” he stopped to correct himself. “My nephew. My sister. Begging to be saved until their last breaths! And there was _nothing_ I could do!”

“You killed Kate!” Stiles forced out against the bone crushing grip on his jaw. He was vibrating with the anger Peter was filling him with. “You killed everyone that helped her. You got your revenge! What the hell else do you need?”

Peter jerked Stiles’ head side to side, creating a pain in his neck from the sudden sharp movements. “I told you! This isn’t about revenge, it’s about _power_! After I managed to drag myself out of there, I was in a catatonic state, completely vulnerable. Once again—for six solid years—I was powerless. I couldn’t do anything. Derek and Laura left me behind. I was weak and all _alone_.”

At the word alone, all the rage Peter was channeling began to diffuse, weakening and weakening until Stiles was left feeling a profound sadness. It was so potent he found himself glad he was tied to a chair. Were he standing, the staggering weight of it would have brought him to his knees. It punched straight through him and he felt completely hollow, almost like he was floating in the air. He was thin and empty and fragile. Like an overstuffed balloon and the room around him was suddenly full of sharp corners and jagged edges.

Fuck! Was this what Peter felt like all the time?

“I had nothing,” Peter continued. “I _was_ nothing. Everything turned to ash... _I am never going to feel that way again_ ,” he promised, letting Stiles’ chin go. “So when I say I want _power_ … that is exactly what I mean. It’s not some euphemism, or a vague idea of what I want. It is exactly what I’m going to get. I am never going to be weak again, and I am never going to be alone again.” He let Stiles go with another small jerk and he stood upright, moving back over to his desk.

“Peter,” Stiles whined, suddenly out of breath as he tried to force down the sobs building in his lungs. “Why me? Why here? Why-” He hiccupped as a wail threatened to erupt from his throat and he had to stop before he found himself crying. He didn’t dare show Peter any weakness.

“Why here?” Peter answered absently, distracted by scratching lines off on a paper. “Because it’ll be protected from your friends until the full moon. It’s less than two weeks away. We won’t be here long after that.”

‘ _Peter, you can_ _’_ _t bite me. I_ _’_ _m a witch. I_ _’_ _ll die_.’ Stiles wanted to argue. He wanted to beg and plead, but he didn’t dare open his mouth, too afraid of what would actually come out. Instead, he dropped his head as close to his lap as he could get it with his arms tugged behind him.

He tried to focus on pushing Peter’s emotions out. He couldn’t handle it. He was so frail and desolate, it had him dancing on the edges of his own sanity. He had to find his own rage at the situation and use it to peel himself away. He couldn’t survive like this.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Malia track down Aniyah, while Scott and Kira go to fetch Griffin. Everyone meets up as planned and they begin their brief journey through the woods.
> 
> The last long chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to a close pretty quickly with this. At 9 pages, this'll be the last chapter to be significantly over average length.

Chapter Break

“Are you sure you can do this?” Lydia asked as they walked into Winston Grocery. “I mean, he is your father.”

Malia shook her head. “I don’t care if he was Mother Teresa. He kidnapped Stiles. He tried to kill Derek. He did kill Derek’s sister and countless others. He’s lied and manipulated me. I wasn’t sure what I thought of him before. Now I know: he’s a threat. In the wild, threats are to be avoided at all costs. That’s not an option here. So he needs to be eliminated. Any means necessary. Besides, he’s supposed to be dead anyways, all we’re doing is fixing it. I’m not worried about him being my father at all.”

Lydia looked back at her, grateful and slightly proud at the reference she made. In the back of her mind, she was a little concerned with how easily she was able to slip into the coyote headspace to rationalize things. Considering she wasn’t completely wrong on human terms either, Lydia decided to file it away for discussion later.

They walked past all the checkstands but were unable to find Aniyah, so they wandered through the aisles, relying on Malia’s nose to be their guide. There was a mix of a lot of scents, and Malia wasn’t overly familiar with the witch’s scent, so they found it to be a little difficult.

“Are you sure she’s here?” Malia asked, upset at their lack of success upon their 3rd round through every aisle.

“She has to be,” Lydia argued. She knew Aniyah worked here every day.

In fact, she knew Aniyah a lot better than anyone had really guessed she did. Lydia’s parents had gotten a divorce years ago. Lydia also happened to know that Aniyah’s parents were going through a divorce right now. Lydia’s father was the reason behind their breakup, just as Aniyah’s mother had been the reason behind the breakup of Lydia’s parents. The difference was that Natalie Martin found out about the affair before Gregory Winston did.

Rationally, Lydia knew that the issue between their parents wasn’t exactly Aniyah’s fault. Emotionally, that didn’t stop her from being unnecessarily frosty to the girl on the few occasions they crossed paths at the grocery store, or even just the other day when they met at the café. To be fair, she was pretty sure she’d seen the girl put her finger on the scale a few times when weighing her vegetables at the register. So she was pretty sure it went both ways. Despite any preexisting issues between the banshee and the witch, Stiles needed her help. So Lydia and Malia needed to find her.

They finally found her coming from a door near the restrooms in the back of the store. She was still in her uniform and very unhappy looking. She started down the aisle, past the dairy and in the opposite direction of where Malia and Lydia were.

Sending Malia after her might not have been the best idea, as was discovered when the coyote caught up to her at supernatural speed and slammed her into a shelf of boxed macaroni. To Aniyah’s credit, she didn’t scream. She did however make the entire row of shelves dump themselves onto the floor in what would have been a very attention grabbing crash. Aniyah caught herself just before anything reached the ground and made her telekinesis reverse everything’s trajectory so that they were once again sitting where they belonged as if they’d never been disturbed.

She scanned up and down the aisle nervously, before exhaling in relief. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed at Malia, who still had a hand pressed to her chest.

“You’re coming with us.” Malia didn’t leave room for argument, grabbing the girl by the wrist and dragging her back toward Lydia.

“Like hell I am!” she snatched her hand away, using the smallest bit of telekinesis to push Malia out of reach. “What is even going on?”

“Stiles has been kidnapped.”

“What?!” Aniyah’s eyes bugged out in surprise at the statement. “Why are you talking to me then? Shouldn’t you be talking to his Dad?”

Lydia approached the pair of them, ushering them down another empty aisle and somewhat away from prying eyes. “Did Stiles tell you about how he ignited his spark when he was attacked by a werewolf?” she asked, trying to blaze through the abridged version of the disaster that is supernatural life in Beacon Hills.

“Uh… yes…”

“Well,” Lydia continued. “That werewolf is back and he’s an alpha now. He kidnapped Stiles and he wants to turn him. But Stiles has a spell that can get rid of him without having to fight him to the death. We need you to come and do the spell-”

“What?” Aniyah repeated, nearly yelling. Lydia threw her a warning glare and she lowered her voice. “What? You’re crazy! I can’t do that!”

“Aniyah!” Malia pleaded. “You have to help us!”

“I mean, I want to. I really do. But I _can_ _’_ _t_!” Aniyah looked terrified. “I can’t fight an alpha! And I’ve never even done a real spell before. I haven’t even managed to conjure fire yet. Stiles is good at that kind of stuff. All I’m good at so far is potions. I barely got ahold of my telekinesis. I can’t do any of that! Why don’t you ask Aunt Dee?”

“The spell relies on a specific rune,” Lydia explained. “Aunt Dee’s blind, she can’t do rune magic. It has to be you.”

Aniyah shook her head, trying to force down hyperventilating breaths. She couldn’t handle this kind of pressure. She wasn’t strong enough. “I just can’t!” She sighed and turned her voice to a whisper. “I don’t even know if I can do that type of magic. What if I go out there and I fuck it all up? What if he dies and it’s all my fault? How am I supposed to live with that?”

“What if he dies and you did nothing to help him?” Lydia snapped at her. “You’re the only one who can do this. If you don’t come back and help us and it all goes upside down, it’s going to be on your head. How are you going to live with _that_?”

Malia looked over at the banshee with adoration. Despite the harshness of her words, underneath all the sass and designer clothes, Malia knew she really did have a good heart. She would do anything for her friends. For her pack. It was one of the many things Malia admired about her, something she hoped would rub off on herself. She reached over and squeezed her hand supportively.

Aniyah scrunched her face as she thought to herself quietly for a moment. She dropped her head to stare pensively at her shoes, breathing heavily. Finally she nodded. “Okay, fine. I’ll help, but I’m telling you now. I’m not gonna be of much use to you in a fight.”

Lydia and Malia smiled at her gratefully. “That’s fine!” Lydia assured her. “Everyone else can do the fighting. We just need you to do the spell.”

Lydia ushered the both of them to her car, despite Aniyah’s protests of needing to warn her Dad that she’d left. As soon as they got inside, she handed Aniyah the small jar of blood (“Holy- please tell me that is not what I think it is. Oh my god-”) and the paper with the spell on it. As they headed to the high school to meet with the others, Lydia helped Aniyah read through the Latin and assisted with her pronunciation. They needed to get everything right.

XxxxxxxxxX

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Griffin didn’t even bother looking up at them eyes fixated on his book.

“Are you serious?” Scott nearly shrieked, incredulous. “It’s Stiles!”

“Well, it’s not my fault his _lies_ finally caught up to him, and now he’s found himself in trouble. Again.” Pure dark chocolate was less bitter than those words must have tasted coming out of his mouth. “Besides, it’s not my responsibility to look after Beacon Hills and play the superhero. If that’s what you guys want, then so be it. But not me.”

“I don’t think you understand!” Kira tried to explain. “Stiles’ life is in danger! Peter could _kill him_!”

“He’s a powerful witch now, I’m sure he can handle himself.” Griffin scoffed, completely indifferent. Or at least pretending to be. “Besides, he’s got a pair of betas, a kitsune, another witch, a were-coyote, and a former true alpha to protect him. I think you’ll do fine. You’ve taken on an entire pack of psychotic alphas. This is just a single one.”

“A _Hale_ alpha!” Scott tried to appeal to his better nature. Stiles had told him about the Hale vs Panselinos rivalry and about the real reason behind it being the Panselinos Pack's jealousy of the Hale’s long line of powerful alphas. So Griffin should know exactly what kind of power they were up against.

"Good thing you’ve got your _Hale_ beta to go with you, then. Apparently you all killed this guy before. So I’m pretty sure you’re underestimating yourselves, here." He still wouldn’t look at them.

Scott just couldn’t understand why he was being so sour. He knew their break-up was brutal, but was it really enough to justify him being vindictive to this level?

"Griffin, we're begging you. He's too powerful for us to take on by ourselves. Last time, we had the Argents and Stiles’ ingenuity on our side, we don’t have that now!” Scott tried to ignore the tiny pang in his chest as he thought back to Allison lighting Peter ablaze with her arrow. “Even then, he was still able to kill Kate!”

“This is for Stiles!” Kira tried to reason with him. “You once tried to rip off a car door to save him! You revealed your secret to protect him! You went toe to toe with that monster alpha and nearly got your arm bit off while fighting to protect him! I don’t for a second believe you’d done any of that for the rest of _us_.” Considering it was mostly true, Griffin wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that or not. “It’s Stiles! You loved him! All of that couldn’t just disappear from one fight!”

“He could die!” Scott repeated. “Don’t you get that?”

Griffin rolled his eyes. “I have complete faith in you.” He wasn’t lying. In that moment, he was probably the only one who did fully believe in them. “We’re not even together anymore,” he continued. “Stiles made it perfectly clear that he was done with me. So it’s not my job to chase after him anymore. Now unless you think standing around shouting at me is going to help, I think you’ve all have got some rescuing to do.” He snapped his book shut and stood from the table, depositing Stiles’ phone on it. He bid them goodbye with a grimace before heading upstairs and left them in Aunt Dee’s kitchen.

“I can’t believe that asshole!” Kira shouted. “How can he just leave him to die?” It was very uncharacteristic of her to lose her head this way, but she was growing frantic.“What the hell do we do now?” she asked. This was looking bleaker and bleaker by the second.

Scott shook his head. He didn’t know. “We’re just going to have to do this on our own and hope we can subdue him by ourselves.”

XxxxxxxxxX

Danny, Isaac, and Derek didn’t have any trouble getting wolfsbane from Deaton. He spent a few moments being his usual cryptic self, but he handed it over easily enough once Derek explained what it was for. He mentioned the phrase, “restoring the balance” and Deaton suddenly seemed all too happy to give the stuff away.

When he saw how hurt Derek was, he’d offered to give him a shot, but would only agree to give him stuff that would put him to sleep. So Derek declined all of them.

Now, they were sitting in Danny’s car at the edge of the forest, waiting for the others. Lacrosse practice had just let out, so theirs was the only car left at the school. Isaac was rubbing his hands up and down his thighs anxiously in the backseat. Meanwhile, Danny alternated between checking his phone and checking to make sure Derek was still breathing where he was in the passenger seat with his eyes closed.

The girls were the next ones to show up, pulling into the spot beside the Yaris, but facing the other way. They all got out except Derek, Aniyah wringing her hands as she greeted the boys nervously.

“Uh, is that Derek?” She pointed at his still form with a concerned frown. He didn’t respond, but she received a somber group of affirmatives from the people around her. “Is he alive?” she asked despite being scared to hear the answer.

“His heart’s beating,” Isaac informed her.

“And he’s still breathing,” Danny added. They kind of hoped he was getting some much needed sleep. That would make it easier for them to leave him there and get the job done without endangering his life more.

Just then, Kira and Scott pulled up on his bike. There was no Durango in sight.

“Where’s Griffin?” Aniyah shocked them by being the first to ask. “I mean, he has to be coming, right? He’s an alpha, so he can take this guy out. And he’s Stiles’ boyfriend, so he has to be coming for him right? Or did you guys not tell him?”

The rest of the pack turned to look toward Scott and Kira expectantly, but they didn’t have the answer anyone wanted to hear.

“He’s not coming,” Scott grit out, barely concealing his rage. “We asked him to come-”

“Begged him,” Kira corrected.

“But he refused.” Behind them all, Derek started growling deep in his throat. Apparently he was awake and had heard every word.

“But that’s his boyfriend,” Aniyah couldn’t believe her ears. “Why would he-”

“They broke up,” Lydia cut her off.

“Yeah,” Kira agreed, dourly. “He said it was no longer his responsibility to chase after him.”

“So he’d rather let him die?” Danny shouted, outraged.

“He says he has faith in us,” Scott added with a sneer. “He thinks we’re underestimating ourselves and that we’ll handle it just fine.”

“I hope he’s not wrong,” Malia mumbled, not sounding convinced herself.

“What an ass!” Danny yelled in disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” Isaac spoke up, voice barely above a whisper as he spoke at the ground. “We just have to go on without him and hope for the best.”

Scott sighed heavily, knowing he was right and that they were wasting time. He directed everyone to head to the forest, but they all hesitated as they saw Derek wasn’t moving.

“He terrifies me,” Aniyah jerked her head in his direction, where he was still growling angrily.

“Why?” Lydia scoffed at her.

“Well,” Aniyah started. “With the way Stiles always describes him as being so strong… I dunno. I guess I just thought he’d be slightly less _dead-_ looking?”

“He’s about to be slightly more dead-looking if we let him out of the car,” Scott muttered darkly.

Ever the defiant one, Derek chose just then to finally peel his eyes open and get out of the car to join the others. He hobbled past them all and led the way into the forest. The rest of the pack and Aniyah followed behind him as quietly as they could.

Despite the fact that he was still clearly in a lot of pain from being injured, Derek wasn’t slowing any of them down. If anything, he seemed to be rushing them along to hurry up. They traversed quickly through the trees, Aniyah sticking close to Scott and Kira, assuming them to be the strongest.

They’d made it a good distance and were finally starting to near the house when they encountered their first hiccup.

All of a sudden, Derek stopped walking mid-step, a frustrated growl ripping from his chest. Danny, who was right behind him, kept going, looking back at the wolf in confusion. Everyone else stopped too, except Aniyah. She didn’t understand what the problem was until she found herself standing parallel to Derek and strangely unable to move forward.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Mountain ash,” Lydia explained. She kicked some leaves around to their left and uncovered a thick line of black dust. “It’s like a force field against supernatural creatures. As long as the line meets like a circle, we can’t step over it.” She reached around for a stick, finding one and using it to drag through the dust and disrupt the line. She frowned when it didn’t work. “What?” She asked incredulously.

“What happened?” Malia approached her. Kneeling down to see what the problem was. Lydia tried again, but again nothing happened. The stick merely slid through the ash as if it wasn’t even there.

“There’s something wrong,” Lydia explained. “I can’t break the circle.”

“It’s just dust, right?” Aniyah asked.

“Yeah, but-”

Aniyah didn’t wait for her to finish. Instead she waved her arm to the side, using her telekinesis to blow the leaves and foliage out of the way and exposing a 10 foot stretch of the black line. That was weird, the dust should have moved too. She tried it again. It increased the amount of empty space around the mountain ash, but the line was still there, undisturbed. That was so weird.

“This is obviously Peter’s doing,” Derek explained. “He has to have charmed it not to be able to move.”

“How would he do that?” Scott asked. “That’s magic, like witch stuff. Werewolves can’t do that.”

“Maybe he made Stiles do it,” Aniyah offered.

“He doesn’t know Stiles is a witch,” Kira countered. She withdrew her sword and tried to use the tip to break the line as well, it still didn’t work.

“No,” Derek, answered having thought about the logistics of it. “But a werewolf can work runes if they understand them well enough. Any magical creature can, really. That’s why Stiles was able to before he ignited his spark.”

“Does Peter know runes?” Lydia asked.

“I didn’t know he did, but he was our pack’s archivist. It doesn’t surprise me that he does. He must have put something so that the mountain ash couldn’t be disturbed once it was sealed.”

“But if he sealed it and they’re inside, wouldn’t that mean they’re trapped in there?” Danny asked. “There would need to be a loophole, right?”

“You try it,” Scott suggested to Danny. “Kira, Lydia, and Aniyah are all supernatural. It probably takes only a human’s direct touch.”

Danny proved that theory right when he tried just kicking it apart first, to no avail. So he knelt down beside Lydia and Malia and reached his hands down to touch the powder. He pulled his hands apart, brushing the dust aside and revealing a pattern of simple runes etched into the ground underneath. He succeeded in breaking the line, but as soon as he did, he cried out in pain, jerking his hands back.

“What happened?” Scott asked, worried Peter had somehow gotten it to repel humans as well.

“It cut me,” Danny said, bewildered. He lifted his hands up and they were dripping blood. The mountain ash didn’t just cut him, the sides and palms of his hands were _shredded._ Isaac approached him and silently reached an arm up to grab his wrist and take some of the pain away.

“So he spelled it to hurt anyone who tried to remove it too?” Kira asked. He’d put a lot of effort into this.

“No, guys look,” Aniyah called them over. With the line broken, the spell that kept the ash in place was no longer working, so she used her telekinesis to raise what would mount to a handful of it into the air. She took a good look at what she had and it wasn’t just mountain ash dust. “It looks like the ash has been cut with shards of glass.”

Everyone else gathered around to look and sure enough, there was a thousand tiny sparkles floating around the black particles of dust. That was a much simpler way to deter any human, but equally effective.

“I’m so sorry, Danny,” Scott approached him. “I had no idea…”

“It’s not your fault,” Danny argued. He glanced toward the horizon, wincing at the setting sun in the sky. “We don’t have time to cry about it. We need to get moving.” He started first, but fell into step once Derek headed to the front and took the lead.

They made it another 100 feet before they had to stop again.

“Another one?” Malia snapped testily.

Danny immediately started to kick the leaves around until he could see the line and went down to separate it.

“Wait!” Aniyah stopped him. She had an idea. “What if I ripped a tree from the ground? The roots would come up and destroy the runes. I don’t think they’d be able to work after that.”

“That would make way too much noise,” Danny argued. “And how would you _know_ the roots were underneath? If they weren’t you would be making a shit load of noise for nothing.” Danny reached down again, but Aniyah grabbed his arm.

“He’s a werewolf, right? Scott could hear all the way down the street and around the corner that day in the café. So he’ll hear us coming long before we get there regardless. What does it matter if he hears us sooner or later?”

“I could only hear that because I was focusing on it,” Scott interjected somberly. “If Peter’s not looking for our sound, we can still get the jump on him.”

“And if he discovers us too soon,” Derek added, “Then he might panic and do something rash like bite Stiles right away.”He shook his head incredulously. He’d been following Peter since he got back to town and he’d never once even come near the Hale House. So this must have been there since long before he left. Probably even before the witch Mariah had arrived to wreak havoc on the town. So all those times he didn’t know where his uncle was and had to basically hunt him down to find him, this must have been what he was up to. He would have never been able to completely seal the circles himself, so he must have had Stiles do it for them once they made it in.

Aniyah couldn’t argue the logic, but she didn’t want to see Danny hurting himself any more than the others did. He was hiding it well, but the pain was nearly unbearable. He seemed determined to see this through to the end regardless, so when he gently tugged his arm away, she let him. He hissed when the glass sliced through his hands this time, but kept going as if it was nothing.

They made it another 75 feet before they had to stop again. While Danny held it together, Isaac whined in distress for him. They didn’t know how much more of this he’d be able to take. Danny was too strong to complain, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hurting him. Feeling every bit of it, Aniyah had to shove her own hands into her armpits to keep them from shaking.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” she muttered under her breath as Danny knelt down again.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally make it to the house to confront Peter.
> 
> 6.5 pages long.

Chapter Break (Early Tuesday Evening)

Danny’s hands were shaking and dripping with blood. After parting a running total of 7 mountain ash circles. He’d cut them so much that he was having trouble moving his fingers properly. Scott wrapped a hand around his wrist, stopping him from reaching down to part the next one. Black lines drew up his arm as he siphoned some of the pain away.

“Stop,” Danny tried to pull away but Scott wouldn’t let him. “I can do this. There’s only a few more left.” His voice was shaking as he fought to repress the pain.

Scott couldn’t stand to see his friend hurting himself, but he knew it was the only way to get to Stiles and Peter. He shook his head. “You don’t have to do this,” he told Danny. If he kept this up, he was in danger of never being able to use his hands again. He’d never been a part of this supernatural stuff until they dragged him into it. None of this had to be his responsibility.

Danny snatched his arm away. “Yes I do.” He leaned down again, kneeling to put his hands on the border of black dust. He took a deep steadying breath then swung his arms apart, breaking the line and revealing the runes beneath. Strange. They looked different than the last ones he’d seen. The previous ones were boxy, these ones looked more round.

Derek stumbled over the line first. He had been getting weaker with every step he took and it seemed like nothing short of a miracle that he was still walking at all, let alone on his own. Aniyah, Kira, then Lydia followed behind him. Isaac made to step over it too, but was stopped in his tracks by a thunderous cracking sound like a bullwhip.

The tiny particles of mountain ash that Danny had spread out all shot back to their previous spot to cover up the runes and reform a connected line.

“What?” he nearly shouted, catching himself at the last moment. They were close enough to the house now that they could see it through the trees and were trying to stay as silent as possible. He reached down to break it again, wincing as the tiny shards of glass ground more into his cuts and tore into his hands more. Isaac, Scott, and Malia were able to step over the line before it whipped together again.

“Why did it do that?” Malia whispered, confused.

“The runes underneath,” Danny explained quietly. “They changed. The spell must have changed.”

Lydia stamped her foot in frustration. “He’s been so meticulous about this. He really doesn’t want us to get in there.”

“But we _have_ to,” Kira insisted. “We’re so close now, there can’t be that many left. We’ll just have to be faster for the next few.”

Scott and Isaac stiffened at the same time, heads whipping over to look at the house. Peter was standing on the porch, undoubtedly drawn out by the cracks the spell produced. He let his eyes roam over the group of them, lingering curiously on Derek, then smirking when he made it to Danny’s hands. They looked more like raw meat than actual hands by this point. He flashed his eyes red at them in warning, before returning inside.

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet started rumbling and shaking like an earthquake had hit. Looking around panicked, the pack realized that Aniyah had ripped every tree in front of them—all the way to the tree line—from the ground and wreaking havoc on the dirt. Her eyes were glowing emerald green from the force of the magic she was using. She dropped them all back into place and only 3 of them fell over.

“What the hell?” Derek shouted. He’d been knocked to the forest floor from all the shaking and was surprisingly disoriented from it all.

“He knows we’re here _now_ ,” Aniyah reasoned, eyes flicking from green back to chocolate brown. She gestured for them to hurry up and waited until Scott and Kira ran into the clearing without issue before following with the rest of them.

Derek and Isaac were the last 2 to leave. Derek had to lean against the trunk of a fallen tree, panting and clutching his chest. Isaac stood over him, worried by his sudden change in scent.

“Derek,” he asked shakily. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he bit out through gritted teeth. “I’ll be fine. I’m right behind you. Go.” Isaac didn’t budge. “Go!” he ordered. He meant to flash his eyes at him, but it didn’t work. His eyes stayed hazel.

“Derek,” Isaac whispered. “You don’t smell like a wolf anymore…” Derek looked back at him incredulously. He tried to scent himself, wondering what he smelled like instead, but he couldn’t.

He could vaguely smell the uprooted dirt and the partially decayed leaves, but that was it. He couldn’t smell Isaac and he couldn’t smell the rest of the pack. He tried to hone his ears in on their heartbeats, but he couldn’t do that either. He heard nothing past his own heavy breathing.

“Derek,” Isaac panicked quietly. “Are you dying?”

Derek didn’t know. He’d never experienced anything like this before. It was like his powers had suddenly been drained from him and he was stuck as a human, wounded and… yeah, probably dying. A human wouldn’t have survived what Peter did to him.

“No!” he assured Isaac. “I’ll be fine. Come on.” He forced himself up, tugging Isaac along with him while he clamored over to the rest of the pack.

They’d made it into the clearing, but they couldn’t get any further than 5 feet away from the porch because of the final circle of mountain ash. It was too far for any of the roots to reach so the only choice was to part it by hand again. Danny had moved forward to break the line but stopped when he saw Peter step onto the porch with Stiles beside him, hands bound.

When Derek and Isaac rejoined the group, Stiles immediately called out to him. “Derek! Thank God you’re alive!” he took a step forward, but Peter grabbed him by the elbow and slammed him into the wall, pinning him there.

“I told you, you could come out here if you didn’t talk,” Peter reprimanded. Stiles fought uselessly against his hold and glared back at him, but knew better than to argue. For once in his life, he kept his mouth shut.

Seeing the way Peter was manhandling him and—paired with the dried blood on his face and the bruising around his neck to indicate he’d been choked—Derek’s blood began to rage and froth beneath the skin.

“Let him go, Peter!” He commanded. Under ordinary circumstances, the order would have come through fanged teeth and with the threat of ethereal blue eyes. This time, the intensity of his gaze was all he had to drive the command home.

“Why?” Peter sang condescendingly. “So that you all may complete your plan to kill me? I don’t think so. I much rather prefer it like this. In due time, I fear Stiles will come to like our arrangement as well. What do you think, Malia?” He looked down at his daughter and she flinched under his gaze.

“I think you need to let Stiles go,” she answered. Her words were forceful, but underneath she was wavering.

“So it their side you’ve chosen, then?” Peter asked, disappointed.

“It’s not about your side or theirs,” Malia disagreed, shaking her head. “It’s about right and wrong, and what you’re doing is _wrong_.”

“Wrong?” Peter asked, affronted by her word choice. “I’m doing _wrong_? What about all of the wrong that’s been done to _me_? What about the family that was stolen from me? What about the people who burned me? _Twice_!”

“How the hell does hurting Stiles fix any of that?” Scott cut in.

“Hurting him?” Peter looked as if he didn’t know what Scott was talking about. “I’m not hurting him.” Stiles’ muffled scoff begged to differ. “I’m helping him. I’m making him better. I’m making him family. I‘ll always take care of family.”

“Like you took care of _Laura_?” Derek hissed, wobbling on his feet. His heart was thundering so loud in his ears that it was making his eyes unfocused.

“I did what needed to be done to salvage our family name.” He blew the question off as if it wasn’t important. As if Laura wasn’t important. “Just as I’m doing now. I’m merely starting the process of returning the Hale Pack to its former glory. If I have to kill every single one of you in the process, then so be it. You shouldn’t have stood in my way.” With that, Peter span around dismissively, dragging Stiles across the wall then shoving him through the door.

“We’ll kill you anyways!” Lydia threatened, voice more vicious and cutting than the pack had ever heard it before. She was losing her temper at seeing the condition Stiles was in. It reminded her of how Peter had left her in the field that day that felt like a lifetime ago, but was just barely a year. Of how Stiles was the one who made sure she got out of there safe. He was the one who waited in the hospital for her when even her parents left. He was the one who wouldn’t give up searching for her until she’d wandered right to him in the middle of the woods. He never gave up on her. It was a stark reminder of the desperation with which they needed to get him out of there. She had to make sure he was brought to safety.

Peter merely laughed. “Then, tell Danny good luck,” he called cryptically as he went back inside and slammed the door behind himself. Derek noticed there was a stack of 2 runes painted on the faded red door. He couldn’t focus on what they were, so he chose to ignore it for the time being.

Danny immediately knelt down to separate the final line, but when he did, the higher rune on the door lit up a bright yellow and nothing happened. His hands slid right through like Lydia’s stick did.

“FUCK!” Danny yelled, venting the frustration of a wasted effort. Nothing happened, but the glass still cut him.

“What’d he do?” Kira asked, swinging her sword out with caution.

“The rune on the door,” Derek explained, inching closer to the line. Strange. He couldn’t even feel it urging him backwards like usual. “It’s preventing Danny from breaking the barrier.” A mountain ash line didn’t actually work like a functional force field. It didn’t stop them in their tracks until they were attempting to go over it. Instead, they can sense it’s there because it wards them away. That keeps them from approaching to closely in the first place.

“But-Y-Wh-How?” Scott asked. He was starting to get flustered. This plan was going to shit more and more by the moment. He didn’t think they could do this anymore. He didn’t know if he could save Stiles!

“The blood,” Aniyah answered quietly. “I remember reading that blood is used like a binding agent in magic, tying a specific person to whatever spell it’s being used for. Peter knew that in order to get this far, whoever you chose to break the mountain ash would have cut their fingers to hell. But if they were willing to do it this much, why would they suddenly stop at the last one?”

“It was his last line of defense before we got to an actual fight,” Lydia added, struck with the same realization. “The rune is to make sure no one’s bloody hands could break the last circle.”

“What if I tried to do it with my foot?” Danny knelt down as if to remove his shoe. The effort was futile. He couldn’t even move his hands enough to do it by himself.

“It doesn’t matter,” Aniyah warned. “Once it’s got your blood, it’s tied to _you_ , not just your blood specifically. There’s no way to circumvent it.”

“Aniyah,” Derek called her over calmly. He was struck with a sudden idea. It was a bit of a crazy idea, but Stiles was _right there_. He couldn’t leave him there. He had to try something. He would do _anything_ to save him. The terrifying part was that his ridiculous plan might even work.

She approached him hesitantly, not really sure what to think of the tranquil sense of resignation she could feel wafting from him in droves.

“Do you have all of the pieces for the spell?” He asked her quietly.

“Yes…” She already had most of the ingredients from Lydia. She’d gotten the wolfsbane from Danny earlier as they were walking through the woods. She would have definitely required the paper for reference, but she knew she had everything she needed. “I don’t see how it matters just yet, since we still don’t know how to get in there.”

Without a word, Derek reached down with both of his hands and brushed them over the mountain ash line, effectively breaking it. Aniyah didn’t even have enough time to wonder how the hell he did that before he’d grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over the line and up the steps. She could hear its echoing crack behind her as she set her foot on the porch and was pulled across it and into the house.

In under 10 seconds, she’d gone from standing with the rest of Stiles’ pack to being dragged through the blackened and charred remains of the Hale House. Now it was just her, Derek clutching her arm, Peter standing at the top of a staircase that led to the basement, and an angry Stiles peeking over his shoulder. They both looked just as confused about how she and Derek had managed to get in as Aniyah felt.

“What the fuck just happened?” she asked incredulously, voice a little higher than usual in her anxiety.

“Indeed,” Peter concurred, tilting his head to the side curiously. Instead of awaiting a response, he reached an arm out and shoved Stiles down the stairs. Aniyah shrieked a little bit in surprise, wincing and gasping as she heard the repeated sounds of his body slamming into each step. At some point he seemed to crash completely through a stair and the sound of splintering wood and a heavy thunk reverberated back up to them.

“Oh God,” Aniyah muttered in horror when she heard no more noise coming up. Not a single movement. She hoped he was just unconscious and not dead.

With Stiles out of the way, Peter directed his attentions to Derek, picking him up by the neck and throwing him across the room like a ragdoll. He slammed through a wall in a rain of dust and didn’t get up.

Then, Peter turned on Aniyah. She couldn’t contain the squeak as she backed away, trying not to trip over her own feet or anything else as she stumbled backward. She wanted to say something. She wanted to delay him or ward him off somehow, but she was no good with her words. Nothing was coming to her and her tongue was paralyzed. She had to focus on not hyperventilating and choking on it. He followed her calmly, looking more boredly curious than anything.

When Aniyah had managed to edge herself into what was once a family room, Peter had decided that he was done toying with his little mouse. He swung an arm out, showing her a hand full of claws. When she saw them, she jumped so hard that she tripped herself and landed hard on her butt. As she hit the ground, the sounds of a jar shattering beneath her rang out and she panicked.

Oh no! She fucked up! Blood was pooling on the ground beneath her thigh, and knew she’d ruined everything. _How the hell was she supposed to do the spell now_?

She looked up at Peter and saw that he was already swinging his arm down toward her. She had just enough time to slam her eyes shut and scream before impact. He never reached her. He let out a roar that she felt vibrating in her ribs. When it tapered off, she peeled her eyes open to see what had stopped him.

It was Derek. At the last moment, Derek had leapt in front of her and taken the blow, head on. Judging by his the way both of his ankles were rolled, the only thing holding him upright was Peter’s grip into his chest.

Peter released him and his body dropped to the floor, facing Aniyah. He was completely still, eyes wide open but dull and unseeing. He wasn’t blinking, and further examination proved he wasn’t breathing either. Derek was dead!

He’d protected her. Derek was barely standing when he somehow managed to run them in there. After getting knocked around more, he still threw himself in front of her as a shield from Peter’s attack. He’d literally protected her with his life. All for the sake of giving her a chance to rescue Stiles. It was the most selfless, loyal, and terrifying thing Aniyah had ever witnessed. And she fucked up.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Derek out of the way, Peter turns his attentions to Aniyah.
> 
> Average length.

Chapter Break

Peter had taken the time to drag Derek’s lifeless corpse over to the basement and throw it down as well. Aniyah didn’t hear any banging as he bypassed all of the steps and landed directly on the cement floor with a noisy crash.

Taking advantage of having been left alone, she scrambled to her feet and fled to the front door. She’d already ruined the spell, and Stiles was probably already dead anyways. There was nothing more that she could do. She’d gotten through the house and made it halfway through the living room, headed to the entry way when Peter suddenly appeared standing in her path.

This time, he didn’t look bored or annoyed. He looked absolutely murderous. She started stumbling backwards again, not daring to take her eyes off him. He followed her, matching each step with a heavy one of his own.

Aniyah’s mind was racing, trying to figure out a way out of here. In the periphery of her vision she could see the window frames rattling as her magic buzzed around her anxiously. She knew she had to do something to stop him, but she didn’t know what. All she really had was her telekinesis.

Peter’s eyes glowed red—baring a mouth full of fangs like daggers—and launched at her. Not knowing what else to do, Aniyah raised both hands in the air, then slammed them back down, bringing a portion of the cieling down on top of him. There was a loud, long crash and a huge cloud of smoke and dust as the charred wood came down. She immediately regretted her decision as she was nearly blinded and choking on the dust. It kept coming down even after she stopped pulling it. She’d caused a chain reaction that had the entire second floor coming down around her until the walls started sagging inward from the tension and the door had been completely blocked.

When everything finally settled, she kicked herself out from the wood that had fallen on top of her. She hadn’t been standing near where the majority of everything fell, so she was lucky enough to walk away with only bruises and a fuck ton of splinters. With the third floor having already been gone (and the second floor having been mostly relocated to the first floor) the outer walls and façade of the house seemed to be the only parts still standing, although precariously so. At least she thought it might have been enough to stop Peter.

All hope drained right out of her as a pair of red eyes shone through the rubble. Aniyah took a nervous step backward, but couldn’t flee. She was frozen in place, paralyzed with fear as a growl, deep and vicious drifted through the rubble and dust to her. It was rabid and predatory, the most terrifying sound she’d ever heard in her life. The eyes dropped from human height, low to the ground. The height of a crouching animal. She could hear the wood cracking and splintering as the alpha pushed its way from the debris and took heavy steps toward her.

Fuck! Fuck! She was going to die! She was going to die here! He was going to kill her. She was trapped in that house all alone and she couldn’t even move. She was going to die right there!

Suddenly, the growling was cut off by a different deafening roar behind her and to her left. It shocked her so much that she screamed and dropped to the ground. Her magic fizzled through the air around her sending all the dust still lingering in the air to shoot outward, bringing the room into stark clarity.

Before her stood a beast of the likes she’d never seen before. It was crouching down on arms and legs that seemed mostly human, save for the giant claws protruding from its toes and fingers. Its body was covered in wild black fur, standing on edge and sticking out in every direction, nearly obscuring a pair of large pointed ears atop the monster’s skull. The face was the truly terrifying part. It’s as if it were caught halfway between a transformation from human to wolf. It had a blunt, protruding snout with lips curled back over a set of giant fangs dripping with saliva. Its nose was broad and its brow, hairless but heavy. Its face was creased—fine lines settled in as the skin pulled back in a vicious snarl—with a set of deep sunken eyes, glowing a shade of red that would haunt Aniyah’s dreams for the rest of her life.

The beast crawled over the detritus, stalking toward her at a languid pace, knowing she had no place left to go. She needed to stop it! She didn’t want to die! She needed to keep it from getting to her. Her mind raced as fear induced adrenaline pumped through her veins. She needed something to stop it. Bringing a house down on it barely even effected it. What could stop it? Her eyes darted around the room, combing through the piles of scorched wood and gleaning over the charred walls in search of something. Anything. That was it! Fire!

The creature was less than 5 feet away from her when she set fire to the wooden board its foot was on. It howled in surprise, darting away and closer to Aniyah. Wanting to stop it in its tracks, she raised a 10 foot wall of fire just in front of herself to keep it at bay. It worked, sending the thing squealing and retreating.

What Aniyah hadn’t considered in her panicked attempt at self-preservation was that if the fire was right in front of her, it could burn her too. Nearly singing herself, she jumped away screaming as well. Her wild nerves sent the blaze out of control, spreading it to the walls and the tiny bit of the roof that remained.

Alarmed at the growing fire and her lack of ability to control it, Aniyah ran from her spot, clambering over the broken wood and searching for another escape. That merely led her right to Peter’s monster form again and she reflexively started another fire to keep him at bay. The more the fire got out of control, the more she panicked. And the more she panicked, the bigger and wilder the fire got. A vicious cycle. Soon, the entire house was up in flames and she found herself locked in a veritable ring of fire with him.

For a long moment, he ignored her. He scrambled around, howling and roaring in desperation, trying to escape the flames. When he saw that he was as doomed as Aniyah was, he turned on her, barreling forth on hands and feet to deliver his final blow. She dodged at the last second so he missed her with his snout, but was still able to graze her shoulder with a pair of claws, tearing her uniform shirt and leaving a trail of 2 shallow cuts.

She tried to run away again, but he caught her by the ankles, slamming her body against the floor. She could feel it sagging ominously beneath her before he dragged her back to him with one hand. He had the other hand raised to slash her throat.

Before he swung his arm down, another howl cut through the air, drawing both of their attentions to Aniyah’s far left. A huge wolf soared through the air, knocking Peter away and pinning him against a wall.

The wolf was beautiful, with silky black fur that was a bit shaggy and glowing ethereal blue eyes. It was a perfect contrast to Peter’s hideous form with the red eyes blazing like the devil.

The two fought for a moment, Peter kicking the other off and landing a few good bites on it as well. But the wolf was easily a lot stronger, overpowering him and drawing him away. Aniyah watched with wide eyes as their fight led them to another room and out of her line of sight.

It took every ounce of her self-control to keep calm when a pair of hands wrapped around her shoulders. If the fire got any more out of hand, she may have sparked an explosion and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

She turned to look at whoever it was that grabbed her and saw that it was Danny. He tried to tug her up, leaving bloodstains on her shirt from his still dripping hands. She stood up and he dashed through a small opening in the flames, urging her to follow. She trailed after him and they weaved their way through debris and flames until he led her to the back of the house where the walls had already been gone for years.

They both jumped through the hole, Aniyah landing unsteadily, and walked around the house until they got to the front where the rest of the pack was still trapped.

“Are you alright?” Scott asked frantically. “Where’s Stiles?”

“Peter threw him in the basement,” Aniyah explained, starting to cough as the clean air battled with the smoke in her lungs. “I’m sorry-”

“I still hear three heartbeats,” Isaac cut in. The words should have been reassuring, but he sounded scared.

The house groaned behind them and there was a loud crash as it sounded like another floor collapsing. Then Lydia screamed. It wasn’t a banshee scream, just a cry of distress as her body reacted to trying to force itself over the mountain ash line. Despite the resistance, she continued trying to go over it and back into the forest. It was enough to turn everyone’s attentions away from the burning building. Malia rushed to her side to stop her, but she kept trying anyways.

“Lydia! Stop!” Scott came over too, trying to reason with her, but she didn’t hear a word they were saying. Her eyes were glazed over, wide and unblinking. Her body was moving on its own.

“It won’t work,” Danny explained. “She’s in a fugue state. She told me about them before. She’ll keep going until she gets to wherever the banshees are trying to lead her.”

“She’s going to hurt herself,” Malia argued, still trying to force her back, but Lydia was unrelenting.

Aniyah tried to go closer to them and see what was going on, when she remembered that she was trapped. Danny couldn’t break the mountain ash line because of the rune on the door.

Struck with an idea, Aniyah walked back onto the porch. She could see that there was smoke pouring out of every crack and hole in the wall and around the windows. Approaching the door, Aniyah placed her hand in the middle of it. She could feel that it was warm, just below hot enough to be painful. Using her telekinesis to take hold of it on both sides, she ripped it apart, using her hand as a guide to make sure it split down the middle, breaking both runes. The mountain ash circle that had her trapped by the house flashed yellow. The lines that came before it lit up purple and she knew the spells had been broken.

Having noticed what Aniyah was up to, Kira pulled out her sword and swiped it through the line that Lydia was trying to cross. It had worked. She broke the circle and Lydia was able to continue walking until she met the next one.

With a flick of her wrist, Aniyah scattered the black powder keeping her in place, and she joined the others. Kira and Isaac followed Lydia until she’d gone past all of the reformed circles. She kept going further into the forest, coming around the house until it was no longer in her vision and Kira could barely smell the smoke.

Kira was hesitant to go too far in case Peter made it outside and Scott was the only one there that was prepared to fight. Isaac noticed her glancing over her shoulder, and told her it would be okay. He’d keep an eye on Lydia. Kira nodded and headed back, and Isaac continued following Lydia.

Suddenly, she stopped. They were in a small gap in the trees. The area was circular with a diameter no larger than 10 ft. There was nothing significant seeming about it, but she stopped there. She dropped her eyes to the ground and stared at it blankly. She stared it silently for another 5 minutes before she took a deep gasp and seemed to come back to her senses.

She looked around herself, surprised at her location.

“What’d you see?” Isaac asked carefully.

“Nothing,” she whispered. “I just felt it.”

“What’d you feel?” Isaac was quiet but didn’t bother whispering, knowing there wasn’t anything around them except for birds and a deer 100 feet away.

She shrugged. “Something happened here…” She pointed at the ground in front of her feet. “Or is going to happen, I’m not sure.”

“You want to wait a while and see?” Isaac asked. Lydia huffed thoughtfully, nibbling on her bottom lip as she debated whether or not to go back to the others.

“I was brought here for a reason,” she decided. “We can go when I figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I did the thing that they did in season 4. Only I sped the process up a little. Originally, I had no intention of doing that, but I figured out that it kind of solved a plothole I was stuck on. I also wanted Derek to be a full wolf anyways, then especially so once it was realized in canon. So I went ahead and ran with it. Hope ya'll like it.
> 
> 1 more chapter left! *sob*


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with the boys still inside the Hale House.
> 
> Last chapter. Average length.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for how many times I used the words "flames" and "burn." Thesaurus.com only helped me so much.

Chapter Break

Derek and Peter were pretty evenly matched. Derek had significantly more power in his newly-released full shifted form, but Peter had the tactical advantage. He was much more experienced and comfortable in his form, and was a more deadly fighter in general.

He had Derek on the ropes for a while, but as they fought their way through the house and toward the back hallway, Derek was becoming more surefooted, and his attacks more efficient. The tables really turned when Derek slammed Peter into the wall. They both went through it and toppling down the stairs to the basement.

When they hit the ground, Peter had Derek pinned and was about to go for a bite to the throat. Derek threw him off easily, but when he landed, he was closer to Stiles than to Derek. Sensing his imminent demise, Peter lashed out, attempting to attack Stiles.

Stiles had been lying on the ground, vision fading in and out as he struggled to stay awake. He’d hurt himself a lot on his way down the stairs and had found himself barely able to move from all the pain he was in. It was through sheer force of will that he hadn’t passed out yet. When he saw Peter lunging at him, he knew that this was finally the end. He couldn’t move or defend himself, he just closed his eyes and braced himself for the attack.

Peter was a hair’s breadth away when Derek latched onto his throat, flinging him away and up, back up the stairs. He slammed into the top step, making it groan loudly beneath the force and his weight. The sound couldn’t be heard for long because the fire had followed them to the basement and had already begun its descent. When Peter impacted the steps, he was instantly covered in flames.

His screams came out muffled and strangled in his torn vocal cords. No matter how frantic he was or how much he cried for help, he would never be heard over the deafening roar of the flames above him.

He writhed and struggled against the searing pain, falling back down the steps and leaving smoldering cinders in wake. It didn’t take long before the blood loss from his mangled throat combined with the inferno raging against his skin took his life. His alpha red eyes flickered and dimmed as his body bounced off the last step and settled on the cement floor.

Across the room, Derek’s haunting blues absorbed the red, and with it Peter’s spark. The wolf shook his coat against the uncomfortable sensation of the power invading his body, much stronger than when he’d taken it the first time. He shifted back into human form and rushed to fetch the clothes he’d cast aside earlier.

Despite managing to get his jeans and t-shirt on in under 20 seconds, he’d barely gotten the top over his head before he heard the devastating crash of the entire staircase crumbling and spilling a blaze of wooden boards into the basement. The flaming avalanche completely overtook Peter’s corpse, swallowing it whole. Derek spent a long half second internally panicking at this development.

That had been their only way out.

It was his worst nightmare come to life. Perhaps this was his karma. It did only seem fair that he should die there, trapped in the basement where the rest of his family had lost their lives. That had been all his fault after all, just as today was ultimately his fault. He was the one who had deserved it.

He coughed on the smoky air as a huge piece of the ceiling fell down, disheveling more dust and bringing in air to grow the flames even higher. He saw that a couple of scorching boards had landed beside Stiles and he rushed to kick them out of the way. Derek leaned down and lifted his bruised and weakened body, bridal style. Stiles was just barely clinging to consciousness, even as he was mostly unable to move.

Derek may have deserved to die in there, but Stiles didn’t. Stiles didn’t deserve any of this. He had to get them out, if for no reason but to save the teen in his arms.

“It’s always like this, isn’t it?” Stiles whispered between coughs and gasps of breath.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked, trying not to cough himself.

“It’s always fire.” Stiles swallowed thickly, choking on the clogged air. “It’s always you and me. Like this.”

“Not always,” Derek disagreed, scanning the basement as he tried to figure out what to do. “It only happened twice. ‘You can’t discern a pattern from two points of data.’” He repeated the words he’d once heard Stiles say, who had been repeating them from Lydia. Stiles laughed twice, wheezing at the end. “We’re gonna get out of this one, okay?” Derek promised. “Just like last time.” Stiles laughed again. Derek’s eyes zoned in on the corner of the basement opposite them and was suddenly struck with a lifesaving epiphany.

“No we’re not.” Stiles whispered in defeat. “Fire kills werewolves _and_ witches.”

“Not today, it doesn’t!” Derek brought the 2 of them over to the corner he spotted. It was where more of the flames and Peter’s completely engulfed body were. He ducked past the remnants of the collapsed stairs, and dodged flames to set Stiles down against the wall and as far from the fire as possible. It still wasn't far enough. He could see from the reddening of his skin that the heat was getting to him.

“I need your help, okay?” Derek turned to the wall and began dragging his hands along it, searching for something. “There’s a secret escape route through here. This is where everyone had been heading when the fire started back then, but…” He cursed himself for stumbling over the words even now, so he forced them out, starting to ramble. “Kate knew about it and the path is blocked with mountain ash. I didn’t know about the dungeon Peter escaped through yet, so it never got blocked. It is now. If I open the door here, the flames are going to get bigger. I need you to blow the mountain ash out of the way, but you have to do it fast because if you don’t we’re going be trapped in this corner when the flames shoot up. Do you think you can do that? I know your body’s weak, but your magic is the only chance we’ve got. It’s okay if you pass out, because I’ll be carrying you anyways. But…” he shook his head, throat clicking add he tried to swallow. “I don’t want _you_ to die down here because of me too.”

Because of him? Though he was still teeter tottering on that fine line between unconscious and awake, Stiles couldn’t help but grow irritated with Derek for thinking of his family that way. When was that asshole going to finally believe that what happened to them _wasn_ _’_ _t his fault_? Brushing the thought away, he nodded as confidently as he could, reaching up to pull his bracelet completely off and handing it to Derek with a trembling hand.

Derek took that as his cue, shoving the chain in his pocket and spinning around to face the wall. He dug his claws into a line of cracks that was too subtle for Stiles to really see and he pushed a panel out of the wall. When he did, there was a hissing sound and the flames around them began to grow steadily. Shining his eyes red, Derek slowly pushed the panel back and to the side, revealing a long walkway that subtly sloped upwards. If he pushed it too quickly, the air would rush in and cause an explosion.

By the time the door was open all the way, the flames had grown huge and were closing in on them. Stiles could see that Peter’s body was mostly charred to dust beneath the stairs—which were nothing more than firewood themselves. Their little corner was shrinking more and more by the second, and the heat was enough to make Stiles want to scream without the flames even touching him. He couldn’t if he tried because there was too much smoke in the air. All he could do was cough and gasp.

Derek span around to snatch Stiles off the floor. “Now Stiles! Now!” He tried to shout, but the smoke wouldn’t let the sound come all the way out of his dry throat.

Stiles summoned as much of his magic as he could, reaching a shaking arm outward. He put as much force into it as he could muster and he slammed his hand forward. Not only did he break the mountain ash line, but he completely destroyed the frame of the escape hatch, turning the entire segment of the wall into a pile of rubble that Derek leapt over as he rushed them to safety.

He took off at a sprint with full alpha speed, clutching Stiles close to his chest. He hardly even noticed that Stiles had passed out completely in his arms, having used the last of his physical strength. They made it to a short staircase at the end of thewinding trail in just over 30 seconds. Derek didn’t even slow down or stop to open the trapdoor. He barreled right through it, turning his body so his shoulder would take the wall and not Stiles.

He emerged from the ground in a blast of splintered wood and clods of dirt, followed by a thick stack of dark smoke. He was surprised to find that Lydia and Isaac were standing just a few feet away, looking completely elated and the rest of the pack and Aniyah was running toward them to catch up. Scott in the far lead.

“Thank God!” Lydia shouted. “Are you alright?” Derek didn’t get the chance to answer before Scott came thundering over.

“You’re okay!” He exclaimed with relief painting his features. He caught sight of the boy laying limp in Derek’s arms and all the color drained out of him. “Is Stiles alright?”

Derek took a moment to listen for his heartbeat. It was weak, but steady and he could see the rise and fall of his laborious breathing. “He’s okay!” Derek assured him croakily. “He’s just unconscious. He’ll be fine.” His breathing was shallow and ragged. He was covered in sweat, soot and dirt. The unbruised parts of his skin were scalded red from the intense heat, but he was okay. His body would heal and even repair his lungs. He would be fine.

Scott let out the breath he was holding and leapt forward, clasping Derek in a hug. He had Stiles squished in between, but he didn’t care. He was just thankful they were both okay.

“What about Peter?” Kira asked, lingering around the plume of smoke rising from the hole in the ground. “Is he still alive?” Scott let Derek go to hear his answer, but kept a hand on his shoulder supportively.

Derek shook his head, flashing his red eyes to emphasize the point. Peter was gone. “His body’s probably turned to ash by now. He’s not coming back this time.”

No one was really shocked by this, knowing that there was only ever one way to stop Peter. They weren’t shocked by Derek’s red eyes either. They were, however a little dumfounded as to what to do about it. They weren’t entirely sure what it would change now that Derek was the alpha again. They were just positive that it would. There was plenty of time to figure it out later, but for now they needed to get away from the burning house and all the smoke in the air.

They moved further into the forest, far enough away that the smoke wasn’t overwhelming, but close enough to still see the house as it burned to the ground in the twilight. Aniyah offered to call the fire department, but Derek told her not yet. He waited until the building had collapsed in on itself completely and there were no more standing structures. Then he told her to call.

Derek had no clue what it was he felt as he watched his childhood home burn to the ground. He didn’t see it the first time. He and Laura had been at school when it happened and only found out later when it had all but been put out. Standing there watching it now, there was a tightness in his chest and a rage of butterflies gurgling away in his stomach. He didn’t know what one would call that. Stiles would have told him it was indigestion and he almost laughed at the imagery. He wasn’t sure what it was, he just knew it wasn’t sadness per se. Perhaps it was guilt, or anger, or a mix of the two. That seemed to be his general setting on the emotional scale.

He wasn’t left a very long time to muse about it. Aniyah had already torn down a large portion of the second floor. So when the first floor caved in, most of the house had already plunged into the basement. The fire burned that way for a while, turning what was once a grand house into a fiery hole in the ground. As the twilight turned into full on darkness, the embers were just starting to die down on their own and Isaac could hear sirens in the distance.

Danny suggested they get out of there before the fire engines got close, so they wouldn’t be blamed for this. It would be the second time they were caught standing around near a burning building and if the trend continued they’d be accused of being serial arsonists.

“Maybe you are,” Aniyah laughed darkly. Things did have a tendency to catch fire around them. She felt it was a definite possibility.

They headed back toward their cars in the school parking lot in silence. Halfway there, Stiles gasped himself awake. He let Derek continue to carry him for a while. But as they exited the forest and approached the school, he asked to be put down to stretch his back and put his bracelet back on. When he clasped it around his wrist, he didn’t let go. Instead, he slid his hand down the sleeve of his hoodie and clutched his arm a few inches above the elbow, pulling it close to his chest. While everyone else piled into the cars, Stiles stood there staring into the trees blankly, not moving.

Concerned, Aniyah, Scott, and Derek came back out, asking him if he was okay. He was quiet and refused to look at them for a long moment. While he stood there avoiding eye contact, Danny, Kira, Lydia, Malia, and Isaac came back too, surrounding him in a supportive circle.

Finally, Derek reached a hand out to grip his chin, gently turning his head so that he was looking at Derek’s face, but he still wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Tell us,” he commanded gently. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s scared,” Aniyah offered after a beat too long of silence. She could feel that he was terrified really. Uncertain and filled with dread and something else she couldn’t quite identify.

“Scared of what?” Scott asked, stepping a bit closer and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Of Peter?” Lydia asked gravely. Stiles exhaled slowly, letting his shoulders sag as he deflated. He tugged his chin out of Derek’s grip, looking at the ground and nodded.

“You don’t have to be,” Derek offered. “He’s dead now. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Yeah he can,” Stiles finally insisted, voice barely above a whisper.

And he was right. Peter _was_ able to hurt him one last time. After all was said and done, Peter still got to have the last laugh because…

“He bit me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally done. Wah! What did you all think of this latest installment? What do you think will happen next? Any other questions? I'm happy to answer.
> 
> I'm going to be taking another break before I post the next one. So you guys will have to stew on this until March(ish). Maybe sooner if I am able to successfully manage to keep a story under 50k. But we'll see about that.


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